Don't Look Back
by LuckyJo2
Summary: SEQUEL TO PANEM'S DARLING! Prim has become desperately sad since Ian's left for 10. Her plan to see him again, finally, is mysterious, and she won't tell a single soul about it. Meanwhile, as Ian is clueless, he'll continue his experience with Diana and the rest of District 10. Can Panem's darling and 10's newcomer reunite? RATED T FOR SLIGHT LANGUAGE!
1. Chapter 1

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 1_

**A/N: Hello, all! Okay, I'm extremely excited about this story.**

**IT'S THE SEQUEL TO PANEM'S DARLING!**

**I gave you some time to think of what'd happen and what's going to go on. So, here YOU GO! I'M SUPER, SUPER EXICTED! Enjoy Ch. 1!**

Chapter 1—It's Been Two Years

Ian's POV

"So, how's school?" I say into the mouthpiece, staring at the primroses that adorn my dresser. Diana, the little girl who I met a few days ago, is outside playing with a little dog. "Is it okay?"

Primrose sighs, yawns (it's 4:30 in the morning), and begins: "I'm sorry, Ian, but it's been miserable. Emily Line keeps sobbing about you. And she's not even really crying. It's all for show. She keeps moaning 'Not Ian, not Ian' and 'IT SHOULD'VE BEEN ME' or something along those lines. It's just dreadful. I can't concentrate on anything because she and I have the same schedule and she sits near me in all my classes. She's always whispering to me 'Oh, it must be _horrible_ for you, him playing you like that. I'm so sorry he loved me the _whole entire_ time'. How did you put up with her? Why won't she just freaking let it go?"

I groan and put my hand over my eyes. "Crap, she's grown into such a wart since I left. It's been two years; she should be over it."

"She likes to stretch the truth."

I laugh. So does Primrose.

It's been two years since I left District 12. Primrose Everdeen, Katniss Everdeen's sister, and I won the 75th Hunger Games that consisted of the victor's families. And I love Primrose with my whole heart and soul. After we won, I was relocated to District 10. Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen's boyfriend, sent us secret clues. But the Capitol figured it out and blamed it on me, so I got moved. Peeta calls me everyday on the high-tech phones I stole, begging for forgiveness, crying, screaming and cursing the Capitol. I always tell him I'd rather it be me than him.

Is that true? Do I really wish that? I miss Primrose so much it's like swimming across the Atlantic Ocean. She's on the other side. She's calling for me, her eyes the color of the sky and the water. I swim frantically, so frantically that I set myself back. I am the one keeping myself from her. But there are also other obstacles—the Capitol being crashing waves, District 10's constantly-guarded thirty foot brick wall being the howling wind, and the distance is the pounding rain. I'll never make it by myself.

"So, how's 10?" she asks, her voice slightly cracking.

"It's good. You were right; there are beautiful flowers. This kid sold me a box of pr—of them. They're really nice. The girl's name is Diana and I gave her my whole moneybag."

_"Ian!"_ she exclaims. For a moment, I think she's slammed the phone down, but it's just her, squealing excitedly on the other end. "That's _wonderful!_ Absolutely _brilliant!_ Oh, my god, that's the _sweetest_ thing ever! I'm kissing you over the phone, you know!"

I laugh. Primrose is the best.

"Yeah, well, her family was in trouble, no work, broken back. She was selling the flowers dirt cheap. I felt really awful."

"Oh, my god, it sounds worse than 12…" I realize she's trying hard to not cry.

"Primrose, don't cry. It's okay. They've got money now that I'm here."

She takes a breath that I hear over the phone. "It's okay. I'm okay. It's okay. Okay." I hear her breathing shudder and then relax. "So it really is good?"

"No. It's awful without you and Peeta and Katniss and Haymitch and Effie and Lauren and Logan. Absolutely horrifying, Primrose, I can't take it. I need you here."

She really does start crying now. "I need y-you too, Ian. I c-can't stand it. I love you I love you I l-love you." And her voice, creaking and heaving, comforts me.

_Someone still loves me. Someone still cares about me. Someone I love and care about. Thank god. Thank the lord. Thank you thank you thank you so much._

"Primrose, don't cry. It's okay. I'm okay." I pause, trying to find something to break the silence that includes Primrose's non-stifled sobs and my loud, really loud breaths.

"I—I need to tell you something," she starts, obviously wiping away tears. "I'm come—"

There's a knock on my door. "I better go," I whisper. "Call me tomorrow."

"I can't. We're—we're leaving for vacation, to—to 4. So, um, I won't be able to call for awhile." She's having trouble stringing words together, I think. I feel my stomach sink.

"Okay. Wait, hang on. If you can go to 4, why can't you come here?" I say it excitedly, anxiously. "Really though Primrose, why not?!"

"We can only go to districts with, uh, high-security. Oh, god, Katniss is home. I gotta go. Bye. I love you times a million."

I only have time to say "I love you too" before she hangs up.

She's keeping something from me.

But what?

Primrose's POV

I can't stand not telling Ian.

It's driving me inward. Today I almost let it out. I can't tell him or he'll yell at me and start crying and tell me not to. But I've reached the end of my road. I can't do this anymore. I just want to be happy. And this is the only way to be happy. To do _this_ would mean eternal happiness. And I really want that. Knowing he and I will somehow, someway, always be together. Even if I leave for awhile and he's worried sick. In the end he'll have to thank me.

And as my eyes well up with tears, I want to dial and tell him.

But he loves me. So I can't.

He'd fear and fret and start screaming at me "DON'T DO IT! IT'S TOO MUCH PRIMROSE!"

However it's the only way to see him again.

And as I feel the overwhelming pain wash over me knowing he's not with me I nearly black out.

"KATNISS!" I screech, clamping my sweaty palms over my eyes.

She comes running in, braid swishing madly behind her. "What? What's wrong? Prim is it Ian again? Oh god, I'm so sorry." Katniss pulls me into a hug. I rock back and forth in her lap, like I used to late at night after my nightmares. "You know it'll all be okay. It's going to be okay. We'll find a way to get him back home."

_Tell her tell her just tell her that you have to it's for the best tell her not to worry that it'll be fine_

"That—that'll take—t-take—"

I start to sob. Every time he calls me I manage to keep myself calm and collected. But after we hang up remembering his voice just BAM! cracks me in half. And suddenly I'm crying hysterically like Emily Line every day at school.

_They _

_ Call me _

_ Insane, demented, upset_

_ Torn apart inside_

_ And I must say_

_ That they _

_ Are close_

_ Near perfect description, in fact_

_ But in_

_ Instead_

_ I'll tell_

_ Them that_

_ I'm fine, I'm_

_ Fine._

I close my eyes. "And when I run over the, the sun, I'll yell, yell out, so loud, 'How is, your life, full of pain, and strife, that's nice, I'd like, to know,'" I whisper, smiling slightly.

And maybe I can be okay.

There's shouting from downstairs. Muffled words, crystal clear curses, pounding of fists, my mother and Katniss arguing. I slip to the ground and sneak to the staircase.

"—lost all interest, always shut up in her damn room, Jesus Christ, Mother, she's what you were!"

"Young lady," Mother says dangerously. "Primrose is not becoming depressed. She's coping, for God's sake. And don't swear anymore, please. It's not of becoming a lady."

"I don't want to be a lady! I want to be a freaking hunter. I've got no time to deal with a lump of misery. She's got to grow up. Childhood crushes don't last, Mom. She's gotta forget him and move on."

"Katniss—Joanne—Everdeen." Mother's voice becomes even quieter, more deadly. "You do _not, in ANY—damn—way, _become insensitive to your poor sister's feelings. Now, go outside and just—just go."

Katniss swears loudly. "Fine then. Shut me out. Again. As usual. You are so _hypocritical!_" And she storms out the door.

I step into the light just as my mother throws down her dishrag. "Oh, hello Primrose; you've been up in your room the whole time?"

"Um…yes. So, I need to tell you something."

"Yes, dear?" Her eyes hug me a little. I smile sadly.

"I'm going to—"

—End of Chapter 1—


	2. Chapter 2

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 2_

**A/N: Two reviews in the first hour of posting **_**DLB**_**. My readers are the best in the whole wide world. Love you all, and enjoy ch. 2! **

Chapter 2—Schemes

Prim's POV

"I need to tell you something—"

"Dear, I need to tell _you_ something." My mother's face looks tired, lined. She looks older than she really is. "You've been acting differently. And I'd quite like to know why."

_Are you stupid? The great love of my life moved to 10!_

But instead I phrase it this way: "I guess it's just the aftermath of Ian moving away…"

"Oh, sweetie. I'm so sorry about that. But you must realize that he's safe, well fed, and cared for. He's in good—well, okay—hands. And he's going to live. We're working on a plan to get him out." But her eyes tell me that this is a lie, they're not trying. They've accepted the fact that Ian's not coming back.

_So why can't I?_

"Mother, don't lie to me. I know they're just doing something about the Games, and they want them over. If one more boy has to suffer then he will. It's just—why does that boy have to be Ian?"

"Oh, god. Primrose, I'm just…it was…luck."

_"Luck?! Luck?!"_

"There are many types of luck," my mother says simply. "Good and bad, and none at all. Ian was struck with awful chances. But he was also awarded with a slight amount of good luck—shelter, food, and care in exchange for leaving his home and his loved ones. And it's awful, absolutely revolting, but we can't do anything about it now. He's in 10, fine. He's healthy."

"Healthy. Yes, Mother, that makes me feel so much better. I need him, Mother. We're both sick, both drunk with the alcohol we call love. And we're not healthy. Every day I cry myself to sleep. Every night he tells me he hardly rests at all. And I'm sorry, Mother, but I feel like the whole world is against me."

She sighs. "You and Ian—you're too young, Primrose. You're fifteen. Much too young, darling. I'm sorry. But it's best if you forget him anyway."

I can hardly even hear her anymore. "Mother. Katniss and Peeta. Are you kidding me?! They were only one year older than I!"

"But, sweetie, Katniss was always—I mean, she was so—"

"You are not saying that she is more mature than I am." I have to clench my fist to keep from lashing out. "I have been through so much more than she. I lost him. I loved him. And I watched my best friends—_friends, not friend_—in that arena die. I watched Quinn die. Gregg die. Even Eleanor die. I _killed_ Gregg, for God's sake. And here you are, stating that she's more mature."

My mother sighs. I want to hit her, slap her so hard. _"Mother, listen to me! I LOVE him! WHY can't you SEE that? Are you BLIND? Did you NOT see us IN THE DAMN ARENA?!" _I yell, stepping closer, brushing my hair out of my eyes. My body is calm but my voice is not.

_Who have you become?_

The first tear rolls down my cheek. My mother begins to cry as well.

"Oh, Primrose, oh Primrose, Primrose, Primrose," she says. "I'm so sorry, dear. I wasn't—aware—of the strength of—of—oh, sweetie…"

"Don't. It's my fault. I'm going to my room." I wipe my eyes. It seems like that's all I ever do anymore. But soon, I'll be happy again. Soon I'll be able to smile and run and be with Ian, once he finds me…

I smile at my mother and hug her, two things I haven't done in an eternity. She smiles back and kisses my forehead. "I'm glad to see you happier. Take some toast and eggs, you look like you're about to drop."

She hands me a plate loaded with toast and scrambled eggs. They look delicious. I feel lighter, after realizing that this scheme might actually work…but how can I do it without him knowing? He'd probably actually skin me alive if he found out what I'm going to do…

As I eat generously, gazing out the window, I think of Quinn. Quinn, my ally in the Games, a Career in District 4, chose me when she already had an ally. Quinn, so breathtakingly beautiful, so funny, so sweet. She was ready to win, but she saved me from a sniper's arrow. And I remember the poem I made up for her and her alone.

_A halo of fire and gold_

_Wings of wind and laughter_

_ Racing barefoot_

_ Across_

_ The sky_

_ Flying like a dove of heat_

_ Skimming the _

_ Clouds that_

_ Puff so high_

_ In the great_

_ Blue_

_ Sky_

I press my palm to the window. It's almost nine o'clock now. Is Ian up? What time is it where he is?

I'm going to call him. I pick up the phone and dial the special "code" that's Ian's. I have to be very careful not to dial Capitol services, since these are Capitol phones.

Ian and I each have different "codes" instead of phone numbers. His is 1224 and mine is 4221, which is Ian's backwards to keep it simple. The codes are harder to crack than phone numbers, and much less complicated. All we did was program the phones to recognize the codes. The Capitol numbers can still be dialed, which stinks. We have to be very cautious not to accidentally dial their numbers.

"1…2…2…4…"

Five rings before he picks up. That's our signal for "I'm okay". Two rings means "I'm upset", one ring "It's serious", and three rings is the distress signal. I always feel a little jolt of fear when the third ring sounds. I'm always dreading the day three rings will reach my ears without the fourth and fifth following it…

"Primrose, you called me an hour ago." He sounds happy nonetheless. I sigh in relief.

"I know, I know. I just—I nearly attacked my mother, which would be my new personal low. I'm trying to cope by letting my emotions wander free, but Ian, it's not working!"

Ian sighs. "You can't let them _wander free_. That will just make them more intense. Try and contain them. Squash them so hard they can't rear back up to bite you in the face. You can do it. It's difficult, sure, but you can do it, since you're stronger than anyone I know."

"Thanks. Okay. But keeping them in check would be…"

"Next to impossible for someone like you, I know. But you have to try, okay? Please?"

It's my turn to sigh. "Alright, doofus, I'll try my best. But you've got to help me along, Reseda."

"That's fine by me, Everdeen." And then he laughs.

The nerve of him! Laughing at a time like this is near suicidal. It could be hazardous to his health.

"Ian. I really, really need to tell you something."

"Okay, Primrose, just go ahead. Is it really important?"

"No. I'm just calling to describe to you this incredibly interesting cloud that's shaped like President Snow's beard."

"Oh. Lovely."

"Seriously, doofus, it's important." I take a deep breath as he listens intently, our line buzzing. "I'm going to walk to 10, and I need your help to do it."

—End of Chapter 2—

**A/N: Sorry this one's kinda short. I have a basketball game today, wish me luck! **** Love you all! **


	3. Chapter 3

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 3_

**A/N: Hi guys! I'm going to be leaving town for a week or so, so either this is going to be posted today or sometime around Thursday or Friday of next week. I'm sorry about this ****. Anyway, enjoy chapter 3! (I don't own One Direction's **_**Best Song Ever**_**.)**

Chapter 3—Decisions, Decisions…

Ian's POV

"WHAT?!"

Primrose sighs. "That's what I thought your reaction would be. I can't live like this any longer—chatting on the phone while you're probably off staring out a window, thinking _Oh, heck, what a lovely patch of grass, oh, doesn't it look like that big bird flying in the sky, next to the cloud that looks like Snow's beard that Primrose told me about, oh, how lovely_ or something along those lines! Don't you _see_? I'm so, so sick of Emily Line whispering awful things to me and running out of class crying, trying to get a reaction out of me. I'm sick of hanging out with girls who wear invisible crowns on their heads and trying to be stereotype. It's too hard, too messed up. Please, just let me do this."

"No. You can't. You can't just wander into 10 and live with me. It's impossible, Primrose, and it's incredibly dangerous and I love you too much…please, don't do it, I'm fine."

"Well, awesome for you. God, I do hope you love living the rest of your life in that grimy old house, watching what's-her-name play next door, giving all of your money to her."

I feel heat rush into my cheeks. "No means no, Primrose."

"You're not my father, Ian. Only I can decide. I'm not going to come _live _with you. I'm only fifteen, going on sixteen. I'm going to smuggle you out and you can live in Victor's Village. And we can make sure all the Peacekeepers swear to secrecy or Haymitch will organize a Hunger Games where all the Peacekeepers compete. He says that the audience would love it."

"Now, you listen and listen well, Primrose. How do you think the Peacekeepers will keep quiet with a District 10 escapee on the loose? They'll tell for sure, absolutely. They don't care about the 'Peacekeeping Games'. They will somehow let the Capitol know.

"I really do wish you could, Primrose, but it's so dangerous. The walk alone would take at least two weeks, possibly three, and even I don't know."

I can tell she's angry with me. _Did you really think that I would just let you come?_

"Ian, you don't understand! I need your help to do it! I can do it! And even if you won't help me you can't stop me from coming."

"Oh…"

"Think about it and call me back whenever. I swear I'll take your opinion into count. Please, Ian, just think—_we could be together again. _I love you."

She hangs up before I can take another breath.

Instantly I feel bad for not supporting her wholeheartedly, although I really just was trying to protect her. She can't come into 10 and "smuggle me out" without getting caught. This isn't getting house arrest for a week or a week off school. Oh, god no. This is whippings, getting thrown in prison for life, most likely the death sentence. It would be utter madness to attempt to come.

I flop back on the bed, exhaling. I also _want_ her to come. I need to see her again. She's right, I can't spend the rest of my life staring out windows and giving my money away. I can't spend forever watching Diana gawk over full moneybags, shiny coins and crisp bills. I can't just fade, my sanity as big as Snow's kindness streak. I need Primrose more than anything in the entire world. So what do I tell her?

A Brief Interlude of My Argument with Myself:

_You're not coming._

_ I miss you so much._

_ You can't come._

_ I wish you would._

_ Don't—come._

_ Come, please come!_

_ It's too big of a risk!_

_ Risks were made to be taken!_

_ No! N-O!_

_ Yes! Y-E-S!_

I decide to get my mind off things and go for a walk, one of three ways to entertain myself now.

**Ian's List of 3 Ways to Entertain Yourself in District 10**

** -Go for a walk.**

** -Talk to Diana.**

** -Call Primrose.**

As I climb down the stairs, I think of the exact color of Primrose's eyes. Not sky blue, but not the sea-green that Gregg's were. Her eyes were a mix of sapphire and forget-me-not. The right one had a rim of pale blue, almost white, ring around the pupil.

Her hair was the color of golden wheat and summer sand. Golden in the sunlight and almost auburn at night, it usually was pulled into two low ponytails trailing in front of her shoulders. Primrose had this one dark brown streak. "It's quite mystifying," she told me once, "because I have absolutely no idea where it came from. I just woke up with it one day."

And her voice…she's a hell of a singer. When she sang after Quinn's death…I nearly cried. Gregg _was_ crying. But when she's talking, her voice is as real and light as sunlight hitting waves. Her laugh was so _genuine_, so _natural_. Not preppy or high or fake like some girls' who try to laugh to impress. Primrose laughs to laugh, and that's the wonderful part.

_Maybe it's the way that she walked_

_ Straight into my heart and stole it_

_ Through the doors and past the guards_

_ Just like she already owned it_

I smile slightly as I remember all of her good qualities. That's been the one thing, aside from Diana, keeping me sane. Remembering Primrose makes it seem like she's almost here. Clinging onto any type of hope is essential in the wide world of loneliness.

_Said her name was Primrose_

_ And her daddy was in heaven_

_ Said I've got a good mouth (you got a good mouth)_

_ And she kissed me like she meant it_

It might seem messed up, but somehow I kind of _want_ to forget Primrose. I mean, once you've been cooped up in a house with your only company being a six-year-old girl who is kind of in awe of you, you start to think some strange things. But if I forgot Primrose, I wouldn't be in so much pain, so much agony right now.

Instantly I curse myself a million times. I can't believe myself. That's the most selfish, horrible, AWFUL thing I could ever say. I want to hurt myself for saying that, quite honestly.

My phone begins to ring. It's Primrose.

"Hello, love," I say softly.

"What's wrong?" she replies instantly.

"I just had the worst thought…um…"

She seems to be concerned, but she might just be annoyed. "Oh. What was it?"

I tell her. She sighs.

"I know, Ian. I've been thinking too, what if I just…oh, god no. I'm so selfish, Ian. Please, I'm really sorry. I wouldn't forget you for the world and the moon and all the stars in the sky. I wouldn't. I would choose you."

I remember asking her that in the arena.

_"Would you choose me? Would you spend the rest of your life with me over anyone else?"_

_ "I would."_

"No hesitation," I reply swiftly, and I hear her wonderful laugh in response. "So why did you call?"

"To see if you'd thought about it. I'm sorry," she adds hastily, hearing my slight snort. "But it's nerve-wracking, asking your boyfriend if you can come smuggle him out of a stupid district that the stupid Capitol is so stupidly fond of."

"The Capitol? Fond of 10? Nice joke. Most people here are skeletons." I sigh. "It's awful, really, seeing the kids starving and stuff. It's 12 times three. I mean, I saw little kids not getting enough to eat and things, but I didn't live in the Seam. I lived in the Centre, which was the nicest part of 12, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, I remember Katniss swearing revenge on every one of those 'self-indulgent hypocrites'."

"Shut up," I say, as she laughs again. "We did share."

"Um, not really, seeing as our best meal after our father died was two pieces of burnt bread."

"I don't want an argument, Primrose. I have thought about it, okay?"

I can hear her smile over the phone. She knows what I'm going to say.

"Come on over."

—End of Chapter 3—

**A/N: I recently got back home (I was out of town) and it's a snow day today! So I finished up the chapter! I hoped you like it! (Sorry, so sorry I couldn't write, my hotel didn't have a computer.)**


	4. Chapter 4

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 4_

**A/N: Hello, lovely readers! Please enjoy this fourth chapter in my installment! A new character comes into play here! :D! Go on, read! Enjoy Ch. 4!**

Chapter 4—Driven to the Brink of Madness

Prim's POV

"Come on over."

"Oh, Ian," I say, grinning madly. "Oh, god, this is going to be awesome!"

He sounds unsure when he says, "Yeah, oh, hell yeah."

I wring my hands and pluck a marker from my desk. Snatching a piece of paper, I begin scribbling down a list.

"I gotta go, I'm making a list of stuff we need, and I'll call you tomorrow. Bye, love you, leave me alone."

He laughs as I hang up the phone.

My penmanship is awful, it's changed so much. I can't do cursive or shorthand; I just kind of do wobbly letters in scrappy sizes. My writing is crap. But it's not the only thing that's changed.

I've become darker, more secretive and moody. I hang out with the "tough" kids at school. I mean, I'm still a pretty good student, B+ average, but my whole personality has changed. My "clique", the rough students, actually accept me better than anyone else. They get what I'm going through, and they're experiencing it themselves.

My closest friend in our group (nicknamed "the Sleaziness"), Cassandra, is actually really nice and I have no idea how she got into the Sleaziness. She puts on a scowl and keeps quiet while we're hanging out behind the school at recess, but after they leave she's a babbling brook. She always compliments me and makes suggestions kindly and I quite like her. But even though I like her it doesn't mean that she's my best friend.

My best friend is probably Elisa, who lives two doors down from my old house in the Seam. We're always laughing and having an awesome time around each other. Elisa Kenning, the 15-year-old artist and Gandhi (some guy who lived long, long, long before Panem and when Panem was "North America", thanks to my Ancient History class), and I, Primrose Hazel Grace Everdeen, the rookie rough girl and secret-hider trying to love someone and be sane and nice at the same time, are inseparable. Ever since I moved to Victor's Village, we've walked to the old bridge by Dappling Cardinal River, which runs straight through 12 into 11. It's a beautiful place.

Anyway, my list looks something like this:

**SUPPLIES NEEDED TO SMUGGLE IAN OUT OF 10**

**-all the regular survival stuff food water first aid **

**-rope**

**-weapon of any sort**

**-cell phone**

**-map compass clock all the how to not get lost stuff**

**-stuff to keep me busy **

**-disguise**

**-sleeping bag gloves coat the entire how to not get frostbite stuff**

**-bug spray**

**-plan a**

**-also a plan b in case i like almost die**

**-probably a lot of spur of the moment stuff**

**PLAN A**

**trek on foot to 10, using all the stuff i listed above**

**get ian out of victor's village with a peacekeeper disguise**

**trek back to 12**

**not die**

**live happily ever after**

**PLAN B**

**trek on foot/on mini hovercraft**

**get ian out of victor's village w/o disguise**

**trek back to 12**

**not die**

**live happily ever after**

**POSSIBLE OTHER PLAN (PLAN B AND1/2)**

**get haymitch to fly to me 10**

**pluck ian off his front lawn**

**FLY SUPER FAST BACK TO 12**

**hide ian for a really long time**

**come out**

**get married**

**and live happily ever after**

I smile and tuck my hair behind my ears. Gone are the ponytails that trail over my shoulders, the girlish looks and innocence. No, I am part of the Sleaziness now, and there is no going back.

Three soft knocks on my door. I whirl around to find Katniss, her cheeks pink and her eyes wild.

"What?" I ask sharply.

She raises her eyebrows, failing to look stern. "Listen, I need you to forget your loneliness for awhile and forget Ian and—and come with me!"

I stare at her, bemused.

"What do you mean, forget? I'm—oh! I'm working on something!" I say quickly, trying to shield my list casually. "Where are you going?"

She holds up a flyer. "All the victors are going to the 12th Annual Victors' Convention! They only started it a few years ago—12, in fact. I get to bring a guest, and—I've been feeling like we haven't talked—talked much lately, so I'm bringing you—here!"

Katniss sounds winded, shocked, and extremely happy all at the same time. I want, with all my heart, to say yes, to say let's go, to say I love you. But Ian…needs me. I can't go. I just can't, since I'm planning to leave in a week.

"Katniss…" I begin, watching the light dim in her eyes. "I'm really sorry, but—"

Katniss's shoulders stiffen. "No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being an insensitive jerk that has been uncaring about you and Ian. I've—I've blamed myself for this…I should've protected you better, should've kept you from getting reaped…please, please come with me, I can make things okay between us again! Please, Prim!"

My heart cracks as she speaks these words. _She thinks it's her fault. _Oh, if only I could tell her…but no, she'd never let me.

So instead, being the awful selfish slug I am, I say "I'll think about it". Katniss's eyes lose their shine altogether, her smile dissipates, and her posture slumps slightly.

"Alright, see you," she says softly, closing the door behind her, leaving the bright purple flyer on the table. It reads:

_CAPITOL NEWS:_

_Dearest victors, _

_You are invited to a lovely gathering to celebrate your winnings, talk the next Games, and share your chilling experiences in the arena. Join us in District 4's CITY CENTRE building, by request of Mr. Cornelius J. Snow, the president of our wondrous nation, Panem. CITY CENTRE is located in the center of District 4's biggest city, Lojo. Peacekeepers will patrol the peaceful beachfront as you enjoy top-class catering, service, and time. Time and date: May 12 at 12:00 sharp. Thank you._

_VICTORS OF DISTRICT 12:_

_HAYMITCH ABERNATHY_

_KATNISS EVERDEEN_

_PRIMROSE EVERDEEN_

_PEETA MELLARK_

_(IAN RESEDA)_

The realization of this flyer hits me.

_Ian might be there! _

Oh, lord, yes! I call Katniss back into my room, where she comes running to instantly.

"Yes?" she asks hopefully.

"I'll go!" I say cheerfully, waving the purple paper. Katniss's smile is as wide as 4's beach as she laughs happily.

"It's going to be amazing," she says, hugging me by my shoulders. "After all that's happened, finally we can be regular friends, shopping in 4 and trying seafood and joking around at the convention."

Friends, not sisters. This is why I love Katniss. Because she doesn't think of me as only a sister. We're best friends; we can talk about anything and everything.

This convention is looking up.

**A/N: It's a short one, but it kind of had to be. I think I'll update weekly from now on, to give myself time for revisions and just the line of each chapter. :D 3**


	5. Chapter 5

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 5_

**A/N: I keep lying about this new character! Sorry, she comes in here. Alright! Here we go! Chapter 5! Enjoy! **

Chapter 5: Eyeing and Crying

Ian's POV

"What?"

"I can't go," I say miserably. "My guards won't let me. They say being in public with 'my own kind' is not allowed. I'm really sorry."

Primrose sighs. "That's the reason I was going!"

"Not to spend time with Katniss?" I burst out, angry that I can't meet her. "Some sister!"

Primrose gets so mad that she hangs up the phone after shouting "Hold your tongue more carefully next time!"

I chuck the phone across the room, mad at everything. I can't even go into a different building! I'm allowed only to my city, Dealt, and my house! And the only two people I've ever seen out and about are Diana and some other girl who I almost never see, unless she's taking out the garbage! I can't stand it any longer!

"AURGH!" I yell out the window, throwing the first thing I pick up—a tourist book (pamphlet, really)—out of it. I yell for awhile longer, yelling and cursing and swearing very loudly.

There's two very loud knocks on my front door. I sigh, pull on a blue t-shirt over my white undershirt, and walk downstairs.

One more knock as I reach the doorknob.

I yank the door open and say, angrily, "WHAT?"

It's Diana, the little flower-selling girl who's surprisingly mature and collected for her age. She cowers slightly as the yell leaves my vocal cords.

"Oh. It's you."

"Hello, Ian," she says nervously, her caramel eyes searching my face for any sign of violence. "I heard you yelling and thought you were hurt."

"I'm fine. Just a little upset."

Diana tilts her head slightly. "Why?"

I invite her in and sit her down on one of the dusty, leathery sofas that sit in the grubby dining room. Her golden braid, shining magnificently in the one bright thing in my house, the lights, is almost the exact color of her eyes. Caramel, I should call her. Caramel.

"You look like a Caramel," I say lightly, pleased by the puzzled expression on her face.

"What? Caramel? What's that?"

"You've never had caramel? God, let me see…I think I have some…" I get up and walk to the tiny kitchen, occupied by a broken microwave, an oven that you have to fuel yourself, and a fridge that's not much cooler than the house itself.

I withdraw from the bottom part of the freezer two small, wrapped pieces of caramel.

"These, my dear Diana, are caramels. Deliciously gooey, although pretty darn awful for your teeth."

Her eyes light up, the exact same color as the candies I'm unwrapping. "They look very nice," she says slowly, although her eyes beg for the sweets, "but Mama and Dad say I'm not allowed to take anything from strangers."

"Oh, come on. I'm not a stranger."

"You technically are, since all I know about you is your name, and for all I know you could by lying."

The logic is killing me.

"Maybe I should just eat both. Then you can trust me."

Her eyes shine with the flame of great knowledge.

"I guess so…"

Diana's hands clasp each other as she begins twiddling her fingers. "Do you have another caramel, in case you aren't lying? Oh, my God, I've just realized something—I'm inside a stranger's house!" Her braid swishes with every word. "Oh, no, no, no, no, oh, Mama's going to kill me, Dad's going to skin me alive…"

"LOOK!" I say loudly, over her frightened babbles. "They don't have to know you're over here! You said—you said your dad broke his back—"

"My mother broke her back and my dad went out of work, and my sister Caitlyn is too young to work."

I instantly begin listening very hard. "Caitlyn? You have a sister?"

"Oh, no! Oh, I need to stop talking, I need to keep quiet…can I go, please? Thank you for the invitation…" Her eyes begin darting around the room, her fingers massaging and pinching each other. "Please, I really must get back."

"Wait, wait…I need to know about your sister. Why can't she work?"

"Because—because—AUGH. I can't tell you! Please let me go!"

I stuff the caramels into my mouth, shutting her up instantly.

"You said I could come visit, Diana."

"I felt pitiful for you! I thought you were homeless! I didn't know you lived _here_!" Her eyes well up with tears. One races down her cheek and she brushes it away with her thumb, staring up at me, petrified. I feel awful, but I really need some answers. Caitlyn…Caitlyn…this could be a deal-breaker if she's not working. I decide to keep this conversation up.

"I gave you money!"

"You gave me, as I thought, all that you had."

I sigh. "I told you there was more."

"When you're nervous, you don't listen much!" She sighs, her eyes furiously pricking with tears. "Let me go! I'm so scared, please; oh please let me go…"

"I'm so sorry about this, Diana, but I really just need some answers. I will let you go after you tell me three things about your sister. Important things."

She trembles. "Oh…I don't know…"

I suck on the caramels loudly. Diana cringes as she begins to speak.

"My sister Caitlyn is your age. Sixteen. She doesn't look like the rest of my family. She's always hanging around somewhere—always somewhere shady." Diana backs against the door. "Now. Let. Me. Out."

I obey, opening the door quickly. Diana darts out, a paper fluttering out of her pocket. I pluck it from the ground just as she rushes back in. "It's not you, okay? It's not because I'm afraid of you. I'm just—my dad just—he just—I saw him wave out your window. Three waves, two jumps. My mother's having another panic attack, another nightmare…I'll be back!" She leaves without taking the paper.

It shows a number carefully traced in beautiful handwriting.

_121-5643-98067._

The number is too many digits for a regular phone number, too long for a code, and too short for what the Capitol calls "useless, broken numbers" but really were District 13 phone numbers, each one ten digits. This one is twelve. What is it?

I watch Diana run back to her house, to her father, and guilt nearly gives me a heart attack. I kept her from her mother, her poor, injured mother and her terrified father. I kept her for some stupid answers about a sister I'll never even meet. I kept her from her _family_.

The phone buzzes. A text from Primrose. I didn't know we could send texts too…

I tap the surface of the phone. Her text is quite surprising.

_Ian,_

_ I'm really sorry about making you mad, I really am. _

_ I know what you said about me becoming depressed. Well, that kinda depends on what your definition of "depressed" is. Is hanging around shady kids nicknamed "The Sleaziness" depressed? No? Yes? I honestly don't know. But if it IS, well, then, I guess I've become depressed. I don't think that's qualified as depressed though. More like…a personality transfer. I am still usually pleased, sometimes even joyful. I just feel like the Sleaziness gets me, gets what I'm going through. I'm not cutting or writing hipster things like "What is Life to the Branded Soul" or whatever. I swear. I'm just hanging around different people. _

_ I still love you, Ian, and I always will. I get lost in your eyes when I see you and I still think about you every moment I'm not thinking of trying to get to you._

_ Love forever,_

_ Primrose Everdeen_

She's not depressed. I believe she'll soon _be_ depressed, but isn't right now and I need to stop her from doing this any longer. I quickly respond—

_Really, Primrose, it's alright. I was angry that I couldn't see you, and I love you too._

_ But DO NOT hang around "The Sleaziness" ANY longer. You WILL become depressed by hanging around depressed people. PLEASE do not tell me you have dyed your hair black and gotten twelve piercings since I left. DO NOT GO EMO. I love you._

_ —Ian _

Primrose doesn't respond, so I watch for Diana. I don't see her running down the road, I don't see her sitting by her flower stand, and I don't see her playing around with her dog.

That reminds me, how do they afford a dog, of all things? Diana's barely getting by on her flower business, how is she paying for another living thing? Does it eat only scraps? Is it nearly dead? No, she was playing with it just a few days ago…What the heck?

The phone buzzes again.

A series of texts that nearly choke me with only a few words:

_stop_

_ i'm _

_ watching_

_ you_

I drop the phone on the ground, recoiling as if it's a horrifying insect.

Oh, my God.

Someone knows. Someone knows about Primrose and I, unless it's just a prank? A prank from Primrose, probably; if that's the case, however, then it's a sick joke. I can't be sure, but I feel my stomach drop suddenly into my feet. This is really bad, this uncertainty, and if it's a Capitolite then we're done, we're dead, just mere memories…

_They must be tracking us._

Our texts, our calls, our every word, tracked, recorded, and surveyed. They know Primrose is planning something, they know about Diana, they know about every instant of our lives, because we talk so much. I wouldn't be shocked if they had a whole _Everdeen-Reseda Notification and Tracking Center_ in the Capitol.

I yell some _very_ inappropriate words into the phone, wanting the Capitol to hear me. I think quickly and improvise, pausing for about ten seconds, and then racking up the loud sniffles and wails. "So you've found out, I see! You've found out that—that I miss the publicity, the—the—the fame, and you've found out that P-P-Primrose was _going_ to c-c-come…I don't c-c-care about P-P-Primrose anymore, she's a g-g-good source of f-f-fame, oh-oh-oh, I J-J-JUST WANT THE P-P-PUBLICITY, B-B-BRING BACK THE P-P-PUBLICITY!"

Then I hang up with a final, guttering cry. "AUGHGUGAHGUAGHAUGH!"

Smiling, pleased with my acting, I chuck the phone onto my bed, watching it bounce around wildly.

"God, I hate you," I whisper, my insides full of fire.

"The heck is wrong with you!" I hear from my window. "God, you gonna wake up the whole neighborhood? Jeez, stop swearing and use your common sense, idiot!"

Peering down, I see a breathtakingly beautiful girl standing in the flowerbeds. She has lightish brown hair pulled into a messy braid, not unlike Katniss's. Her dark brown eyes stare quizzically and angrily up at me. She looks _very_ athletic and _very_ annoyed. I can't help but feel my heart race as she speaks again.

"Please, do us all a favor and shut up."

"God, sorry for interrupting a very important walk," I say back, my breath catching in my throat as she locks her dark eyes onto my green ones. "Who're you, anyway, listening to my conversations in my petunias?"

"I'm Elly Opal, and I was _half a block away_ when I heard some rude, rude words." She smiles quite evilly, and my heart almost stops.

_Ian, stop._

_ Ian, no._

_ Ian, she's not Primrose._

_ She's just a MEAN pretty girl._

_ Very pretty girl…_

"Hey, um, Elly, where do you live?"

She crinkles her nose. "Why?"

"Because, I need some company."

Elly grins widely, no trace of evil apparent. She points to a smallish cluster of houses behind the Potter River, a lovely little river that runs straight through the divide between Elly's neighborhood and Victor's Village.

"I live right over there. Shame the Potter River separates the two groups. Well, maybe not quite a shame. Our two neighborhoods—well, the neighborhood and VV—technically don't get along that well."

I snort. "A neighborhood feud?"

"Precisely, it's the dumbest thing I've ever heard of in my life." Elly shifts her weight. "D'you think you could come outside? I'd rather not yell."

I nod and turn away nonchalantly, then suddenly race down the steps and out of the door. I turn to Elly and walk with my hands in my jean pockets, trying to be cool.

"So," I say, trying to sound very calm, "come around often?"

Elly raises an eyebrow. "Okay. First of all, drop the 'buff guy' act. Second of all, you have a girlfriend. I know that. Third, yeah, duh, my aunt lives across from VV." Her eyes scan me, raking in every detail from my flyaway hair to my scruffy Converse sneakers. "You do have a girlfriend, you know that, correct?"

"Correct. It's just—I mean—yeah, I do, I just tend to like to impress beautiful girls." I wink. She narrows those eyes, the warmth diminishing.

"You do _not_ call me beautiful. Do _not_ lie to me. Do _not_ do this when you know you have a freaking girlfriend. You do not call other girls 'beautiful' behind your girlfriend's back. You jerk!"

She turns, her hair shifting magnificently. I grab her arm as she takes her first step.

"Do not touch me." Her voice is hard, cold, and incredibly emotionless. She frees her arm of my grasp and begins to walk.

"You can compliment others," I say softly, quietly, so she has to strain to her. "I just have been alone for so long. I'm sorry, Elly."

Her steps stop and her back stiffens. The braid is becoming undone. But as she turns, her face lovely in the slightly setting sun, she smiles slightly.

"Me too, Ian."

She steps closer, squeezes my hand, and says again,

"Me too."


	6. Chapter 6

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 6_

**A/N: Hi, everyone! So, do you ship Elian (Elly + Ian) or Prian (Primrose + Ian)? I'd like to know, because I'm actually considering Elian winning out. But that's really unlikely. Just a reminder—Ian will always love Primrose, he's just been alone for SUCH a long time that seeing a beautiful person kinda just **_**click—**_**he wants to impress her. I don't own "Let Her Go" by Passenger. Enjoy Ch. 6!**

Chapter 6—No Thank You

Primrose's POV

It's been three days since I sent Ian the apology text. I'm really feeling quite awful about what I did, even though I apologized. We're good now. I've texted him again, telling him that I won't be able to respond from District 4. I miss his voice, but I think a good relaxation break will be good for me.

I sigh and flop back down on my bed. I honestly don't know if I want to go to 4 anymore. It's going to be awkward with Katniss and Peeta on the trip, Haymitch and Effie will be there, and my only company will probably be Buttercup, who I'm allowed to take with me.

Buttercup prowls the graciously scrubbed hardwood floors (he puked on them yesterday and Mother nearly had to rub the wood right off the ground), poking at my socks, which lay on the floor. I haven't bothered to clean my room much, although I really quite want to. I can't stand being unorganized.

The Sleaziness…I don't know if I can do this anymore.

You've got the leader, Xavier, who gets drunk three times a day and smuggles cigarettes into homeroom. He's got four piercings, speech lessons, and two left feet. His girlfriend, Maze, is a heck of a girl. Her ears are droopy, due to the fact that she wears about three million heavy, dangly golden earrings a day. Her clothes are ripped, and she's _quite_ smart in certain fields, like partying all night and kissing. Maze's best friends, Danni and Clarissa, are both redheads and both very experienced with boys, detention, sneaking out, and how to chug beer. Kyle's dad is a Peacekeeper, and you'd think he'd have been educated not to hang out with kids like us. Kyle wears saggy jeans, ripped and tight t-shirts, and once showed up in tighty-whities. That's all. His girlfriend Amy is a rebellion girl, who kisses Kyle every chance she gets. Cassandra glares and keeps quiet, like I said, but after them she's as radiant as the sun. I wish I was a bit like that. But I think I'm stuck on "drunk with love" and "addicted to the drug I call Ian" mode.

"Oh, Buttercup," I simper, watching his gorgeous yellow eyes follow a butterfly's path outside. "Let's go outside, c'mon, let's go." Buttercup purrs and I kiss his nose, pluck him off the ground, and carry him out of my room.

"Ugh, he's still around?" Katniss says, indicating us. "I say shut him outside and lock the cat door."

_"KATNISS!" _I yell, my eyes welling with tears. "He is my only freaking friend right now and you'll leave him well enough alone!" I hurry to the door and slam it shut.

The air is balmy and sweet and smells of honeysuckle. The butterfly is gone, flown away, probably a really far distance away, far away from a cat it didn't know wanted to kill it.

I'm far away from the cat, Snow, who wants to kill me, the butterfly. But that doesn't mean I'm safe. The butterfly is facing rain, wind, other animals, even fatigue. I'm facing Peacekeepers, distance, heartache, my own family at times, and peer pressure. Depression I'm not sure about; am I depressed or am I just in a mood?

We settle at the Dapper Cardinal River, Buttercup hissing like the water as he prods at a tree root. _Meow. Mew. Mew. _His adorable little furious swipes make me feel content, sweet.

"Here, Buttercup!" I say, patting the grass next to me. His yellow eyes flit over to me, and he purrs happily. "Aww, you sweetheart," I coo, cradling him in my arms. His bottlebrush tail flicks in the air as Buttercup squirms in my grasp, attempting comfort. Finally he gives up and shoots out of my arms, toward the river, pawing at fish.

It's a balmy day and the breeze tickles my face and hair as it brushes past me. The flowers near the river sway gently in the air, the trees musing together to form a lovely song. _This is relaxation._

And suddenly an image of Ian and I bursts into my mind so clearly I could've sworn something conjured it—

_"Ian!" I giggle, chasing him through the valley. _

_ "Catch me, Primrose!" His voice sounds pleased, but begging. "Catch me! Hurry!"_

_ "Hmm?" I laugh. "Don't be a Debby Downer."_

_ His voice switches from pleased to terrified. "Primrose! PRIMROSE! HURRY! THEY'RE COMING!"_

_ "Oh, you trickster," I say happily, but part of my brain knows something's wrong, part of me knows I have to help, so why am I not running, why…_

_ "PRIM—AUGH!"_

_ And he disappears, vanishes into thin air, his scream filling the peaceful air._

"AH!" I yell, sitting straight up. My breath is ragged, my head is spinning, and my lungs aren't working right, oh my God…

Did I fall asleep? Was that real? I can't tell. I feel sick and cold, even though nothing's changed, except Buttercup is pawing at my shoe and mewing softly.

"Oh…it's okay, Buttercup…just a little…nightmare…" I cough. "It's alright. Let's…let's head back home."

The sky is bright and cheerful and as blue as a bird as we start back to Victor's Village, and I feel so clammy, nervous, and shaken that I have to swallow back bile as I trudge onward, Buttercup clamped firmly in my trembling arms.

_Stop being stupid, Primrose, nothing's wrong with you. You feel asleep and had a nightmare. You're not five. Be the good girl you always are, be the good girl you always have to be…_

"Let's go back, Buttercup, I don't like it," I mumble. I clasp him firmly in my arms and march back home, trying to ignore my churning stomach and my pounding head.

"Returned so soon?" Katniss says, genuinely concerned. "I'm sorry about before."

"It's okay, I'm not angry," I say lightly, trying to sound as confident as I did when my name was called for the reaping… "I'm going to call Ian. Feed him, would you?"

She nods. "C'mere, you big old beast. Kidding," she adds hastily, at the sight of my face.

I run back outside, for some strange reason, not wanting to go to my room anymore. Confinement would be awful, right now, and I can't take too much more of this.

_the little bird_

_ how sweet! how lovely!_

_ flies on and on_

_ under_

_ estimated_

_ and _

_ over_

_ protected_

_ but what if_

_ her wings_

_ just_

_ stopped?_

_ would_

_ any_

_ one_

_ care at all, or_

_ would they_

_ only _

_ pretend_

I sigh and fall on my back, softly on the grass, everything sharper and clearer than usual, despite my still-spinning head.

_would they_

_ rush forward and_

_ catch her? or would they_

_ only watch?_

_ would they _

_ yell for help and_

_ protect her? or would they_

_ smile softly? because_

_ she's gone_

_ gone_

_ gone _

_ would she lie?_

_ under_

_ protected and_

_ over_

_ estimated_

_ the weight of the_

_ world_

_ on her_

_ shoulders?_

"Only know you love him, when you let him go," I whisper, my eyes closed. But the problem is, I can't let him go without truly falling apart. "Only miss the sun, when it starts to snow. Only hate the road, when you're missing home. Only know you love him, when you let him go.

"And you let him go."

I will not let Ian go, I won't let go of him like all of the other things I've let go of…so many people I've left for the wind…

Katniss. My mother. Cassandra. Elisa. Peeta. Haymitch. Effie. Lauren. Logan.

Everyone.

"Let him go…"

I tuck my hair behind my ears, take a deep breath, and run.

Straight toward Dapper Cardinal River.

I wonder what drowning feels like.


	7. Chapter 7

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 7_

**A/N: It's okay.**

**That's all time will tell, right now.**

**Enjoy Ch. 7!**

Chapter 7—Phone Call Dangers

Elly's POV

"Ian!" I yell from below his window, chucking a pebble or two against the glass.

He grins and sticks his head out of his house. I frown and throw another rock. It hits him square in the face.

"Jesus Christ, Elly, I'm listening!"

"It's—it's your girlfriend," I say breathlessly. "She—she—she…" I can't force the words out. "Just…just come with me." I hold my hand out.

His face is slowly draining of color. He jumps straight out the window and grabs my hand.

"What the hell is wrong with her?" he whispers, his voice cracking.

"She…she…" I bite my lip. He's going to explode if I don't tell him; he's going to explode if I do.

"ELLY OPAL!" he yells.

"Don't YELL at me! If you freaking want to know you don't SCREAM at people!" I clamp my hands over my face, a tear rolling down my cheek. I wipe it slowly, shamefacedly, already pitiful for him.

"SHUT YOUR FACE AND TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG WITH THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!"

I blink hard, and say, mustering all warmth I can, "She attempted suicide in the Dapper Cardinal River. I'm really sorry."

His face loses all color and all hell breaks loose.

"YOU LIAR, SHE DIDN'T, SHE COULDN'T HAVE, NO, SHE PROMISED, SHE _PROMISED_, I MIGHT THINK YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL AND I MIGHT LOVE TO SEE YOU BUT SHE DIDN'T, YOU LITTLE LIAR, DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME THAT, YOU SICK JOKER, THAT'S MESSED UP, YOU DON'T DO THAT TO A PERSON—"

"Shh, Ian, it's okay, she's okay, her sister pulled her out. She's in the hospital." I look into his eyes, his tear-filled, raging eyes, and I hug him tightly. He pushes himself away from me.

"I CAN'T! I LOVE PRIMROSE, AND I LOVE YOU AT THE SAME TIME, AND EVEN THOUGH I JUST MET YOU LAST WEEK I REALLY MIGHT LOVE YOU! DON'T TOUCH ME! I CAN'T—I LOVE PRIMROSE—MORE THAN YOU, ELLY, I'M SORRY BUT THAT'S HOW IT HAS TO BE!"

"It's okay!" I say, bewildered and flattered at the same time. "I don't love you. You're my best friend here, but I swear to God I don't love you. It's alright. I'm sorry if this changes anything."

His face crumples slightly. "Oh. Sorry—I just thought—sorry."

I hug him again, and this time he obliges, the tears really coming down now. His sobs mask my ragged breaths. I can't stand seeing him like this. He's so strong, even though I met him seven days ago, I can tell. He won the Hunger Games. He's not supposed to cry—and yet, I see how much he loves Primrose Everdeen now. He's sobbing over her, even though he knows she's alive. He's crying for her, even though he knows she'll be alright. The very thought of him without her is enough to send him to hysterics.

"Hey. Hey. Shh. It's going to be fine," I say, cupping his chin in my hands. "I'll bet she was sad and upset. I can tell you haven't been talking to her. That's probably all. It's not a big deal—"

He starts yelling again. "IT'S ALL MY FAULT, OH MY GOD, I DIDN'T CALL HER, I DIDN'T TALK TO HER, OH MY GOD, IT'S MY FAULT, SHE WANTS TO DIE BECAUSE OF ME, OH MY GOD, I'M A HORRIBLE PERSON, I'M GOING TO ROT IN HELL, I COULD'VE MADE PRIMROSE _KILL_ HERSELF, OH NO, OH MY GOD, OH, OH, OH, THIS IS BAD, ELLY YOU'VE GOT TO HELP ME, ELLY PLEASE HELP ME!"

"IAN!" I say, smacking him.

He stares at me, feeling his cheek.

"SHUT UP AND LISTEN!" I yell again. "You can't just scream about these things. If all you did was scream, what would be accomplished? You need to act. And I'm going to help you."

He wipes his face furiously. "Sorry about—about being like a four-year-old."

"It's okay. I'm on your side. Quite alright, you know, screaming; but you should really control your anger."

He grabs my hand suddenly. "You need to come to a convention with me. It's a convention for all of the victors. I need a guest. I told Primrose I couldn't go, but really I just was lying. I was going to surprise her. But if a Capitol guard was with me at all times, it wouldn't be any fun! Elly, you have to come with me!"

I study him. It would mean so much for him to go, but I really don't think my parents would be very happy.

"When is it?" I say, squinting.

"Three days from now, please, Elly." He squeezes my hand again, gazing at me intently.

"I swear to God if you pick me over Primrose I will kill you," I blurt out, covering my mouth afterwards.

"What?" Ian says blankly.

"You can't fall in love with me, Ian," I say, wiping my eyes and rubbing my arms, turning from him. "You just _can't_."

_He can't know. Don't let it show, Elly. He can't know anything about it. If he finds out…_

"I'm trying not to, Elly. But it's like—you're the New Primrose. You're the Primrose of District 10, the irresistibly beautiful, charming, intelligent girl that I can't help but fall for instantly. And you keep creeping up on me when I least expect it. I keep telling myself, _'You love Primrose. You love Primrose.' _And I do. I swear, honest to God, I do. But as soon as I tell myself I'm going to stop loving you, you hit me again with full-on loveliness. I'm sorry. I just can't help it. You're Primrose of 10. I believe I love Primrose of 12 loads more, but…it's been two years, Elly, two years without her. She's fading, while you bold." He turns and sighs.

"You _can't, _Ian," I say, still rubbing my arms. "You just _can't_."

"Why?" he asks softly. "It's not because you're afraid?"

_"You have a girlfriend!"_ I yell, not really caring. I really like Primrose, but this isn't about her. _"You can't ditch her! You won the freaking Hunger Games with her!"_

"Elly…I love Primrose 12. But I also love you. My heart is on a constant tug-of-war game." His eyes, brilliantly green, shine in the afternoon sun. "I've told you."

"I have to go," I say suddenly. His face, already pale, crumples. He's trembling. Primrose's death attempt has killed him inside.

"I still love her more," he says desperately. "I'm sorry, please stay…"

_"But I don't love you, Ian,"_ I whisper, his desire making me uncomfortably sad. "I gotta go. Goodbye," I say jerkily, running as fast as I can.

Prim's POV

i open my eyes. _where am i? _a white ceiling stares back down at me, a comfy bed beneath me comforts my aching back. why am i lying somewhere, apparently a hospital?

and then it all comes flooding back. the icy cold of the river, the water rushing over my head, sinking so perfectly…fainting so amazingly, then ruining it by waking up, the heaviness as i was carried to a lake, then sunk to the bottom, blacking out suddenly… then rough hands yanking me out, screaming and sobbing, and flashing lights, rudely awakened…

"goddamn," i whisper, so close but so far.

_why did they save me? i jumped into that river for a reason! ian not calling me, he's got a new girlfriend from the news lately, he must hate me for leaving and not coming, i should've come sooner! i need to get to him now!_

i begin to get up, but a severe pain in my entire body forces me back down.

"the heck?" i whisper. electric charges, i see. i can't get up. how dumb is that? "oh, freaking wonderful."

"katniss!" i scream, pounding my fist. "katniss!"

katniss comes running in, breathless with anxiety. "hi," she says softly.

"what the hell is this? i can't move!"

her face falls. she wasn't expecting this. she was expecting, _oh my god, i love you and i'm so sorry, oh my god, i shouldn't have done that, oh no, i'm so sorry!_ but that's not who i am anymore. i am not a blubbering baby girl who apologizes for everything and anything. i was before the reaping. but now i am not.

_i have to get to ian._

that's my only thought, ever, that keeps me alive. the fact that he's all over the news—"a heart-wrenching decision as he leaves behind the fierce, beautiful fighter for the mysterious, gorgeous town girl"—makes me even angrier.

"well, we had to restrict you somehow," katniss says quietly, and i start, forgetting she was in the room. "we knew you'd try to escape."

"where am i going to go?" i say snippily.

"ian," she replies, her voice low, heartbroken.

my face flushes and drains of color at the same time. "what makes you say that?" i whisper, deadly dangerous.

"oh. your—eh—lists." she holds up the scribbled on, crumpled pieces of paper that i wrote a month ago.

"those were plans that are now out of order," i say, my voice dripping with venom. "you shouldn't be too quick to judge. why would i walk to 10, see him, and walk back? i don't even _like_ him anymore."

katniss's lips part and she chews on the inside of her cheek. "are you sure, primrose?" she asks, concerned. "you were mad for him—"

"i know i was!" i yell, making katniss jump. "i was lonely, forced to go into a damn _hunger games_ and kill my best friends, and watch them die, all while you and peeta made out and haymitch drank and effie probably was styling stupid outfits, and nobody cared, and now ian has a girlfriend and so i have to get over him because it's been two years and he doesn't call me anymore, he hasn't for three weeks, and it's tearing me apart and i tried to die but death didn't want me, i'm being rejected even by death, and you need to help me, katniss, i have to see ian!"

her eyes shine with tears. "i thought you said you didn't like him."

"i don't," i say, tears of my own pricking my eyes. "i love him."


	8. Chapter 8

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 8_

**A/N: Whew. You just totally took a huge breath because, yeah, **_**Prim is okay. **_**It's going to be cool. Although, maybe not for Prian…kidding, I'm kidding, maybe. Enjoy Ch. 8!**

**(Also: if one character had to die, who would it preferably be, for you?)**

Chapter 8—Perfect Day

Ian's POV

"Elly."

"What?" she asks softly, scooting closer to me on the rough wooden bench. "Is something wrong? Is it Prim again? She's okay."

"I know." I take a deep breath. "I just wanted to say…I'm sorry, for yelling at you, and calling you a liar, and pushing you aside. I'm really sorry."

Her eyelashes flutter. Her eyes become wide, and then her pupils dilate. "Oh. Yeah. It's okay, you were just angry."

"And also…"

She senses what's coming next and says quickly, "I'm sorry for…you know…the…uhm…"

"For not loving me back," I finish dully. "Yeah, it's fine; it wasn't going to work anyway." I gaze at her, wanting her to believe something. "You've got to understand, Elly, I love Primrose so much…I've been so, so lonely…and you remind me of her…I'm sorry."

Elly stares back at me, her eyes twinkling in the late afternoon's light. "I know, Ian. I feel…I've felt the same way. You know, loving someone who loves someone more, or who doesn't love you at all. It's tough, especially when you know the truth, huh?"

"Yeah," I agree.

And then she does something that surprises me even more. She leans toward my face and kisses my cheek gently, like something you'd do to an infant. She smells like pine and lavender and something I can't pick up, something sunny and sweet.

Then Elly gets up and holds out a hand. "C'mon. Stand up, lazybones."

"Where are we going?" I ask tentatively, still touching my cheek.

"The best place in the whole _world_," she says, breathless with excitement. "I go there every day to swim, to draw, even to just be alone with my own crazy thoughts."

I smile. Her words are like more kisses to my cheeks, my lips.

"You must know I've told no one about this spot since I found this," she says, pleased, as I get to my feet. "I thought since we're—uhm—_good friends_ that I should show you this." She runs a hand through her messy hair. "We can hang out there. It's warm enough to swim now. The water gets warm really easily."

"It's the best place in the whole _world_, right?" I tease.

She faces me, deadly serious. "When you've got no p—friends, it's kind of hard to have a 'best place'. I'm lucky I found—"

"—the place, I know, I know," I finish.

"—you," Elly says, raising an eyebrow. "God, so quick to jump to conclusions; but I guess I am pretty lucky to have found the place as well. It's literally the calmest, most beautiful place you'll ever see. C'mon. We've got to get there before sunset. It's prettiest then." She flings her arms out, her face breathtaking in the light. Her hair is streaked with gold, I notice, gold from the sun's gentle kisses. It's light brown sprinkled with sun. It's lovely.

"The weather today is so perfect," she explains as we walk. "The air is light and warm. The breeze cools you down but the sun makes sure you don't get cold. It's one of those Perfect Days."

"A Perfect Day," I repeat, looking sideways at her.

"My God, you've never had a Perfect Day before?" she asks, genuinely startled. "A Perfect Day can be anything. It can be a day at the beach when the weather's hot, a great day with your best friend, even just a real day where you lie down in the grass and let your thoughts wander free. I love Perfect Days."

"I've had one, at least," I say. "But it wasn't really a Perfect Day. More like a Perfect Moment."

"Oh? What was it?" Elly smiles slightly. "I'll bet you I have a better Perfect Moment."

"Try me," I challenge.

"M'kay. It was when I got out of the hospital. I had lung cancer and throat cancer. It sucked for the longest time. I lost all my hair, I was thin and bony, I was ugly, and I was upset. I couldn't wait to get out of the damn place. All the nurses were like 'Oh, poor dear' and 'what a fighter'. Psh, they were as wrong as they could be. I let go. I stopped talking, smiling, being me. I was just a skeleton with a working body but my soul was gone. I fell into a dream. In that dream I was a regular person, pretty and smart and I wasn't sick. But then I started believing it. I believed my dream. And I got better. They stopped the cancer. I was okay again. And now I'm better than ever. See my hair? Its loads thinner than it was. My eyebrows took forever and I just hated them for awhile. And when they let me out of that prison, I was free. I remember walking through the doors without a wheelchair, my hair fuzz and my eyes taking everything in. The ugly fountain of the trout spewing hospital water, the flowers perfuming their scent, the trees whispering greetings and congratulations; I remember it all. It was the perfect moment, with my mom and dad by my side, my legs running with my mind. It was perfect."

"Wow," I whisper. "I'm really sorry, Elly."

She glares at me. "That's the thing I hate most."

"What is?"

"The apologies, I hate apologies. Did you do anything to me? No. Did you cause my cancer? No. So why the hell are you apologizing?" Her eyes shine and her hair flows down her back. "But anyway, I guess it's fine. I'm okay now, aren't I?"

"Partly," I say, and she laughs out loud.

"This is why we're friends," Elly says. "I'm the insane one and you're there to balance me out."

I smile and drape my arm around her shoulders. It's not a romantic gesture. It's just a friendly thing. Even though my heart aches for her and for Primrose at the same time, I need to also be a friend.

"So what is your 'Perfect Moment,' hmm?" she asks, not removing my arm.

"Well, we were in the arena, in the Hunger Games two years ago. Me and Primrose, that is. And this giant wave was about to wash over us. Five, I think, were already dead because of it. Our friend Gregg had left us for our own, on our own terms, after robbing us of our weapons and our dignity. We freaking trusted him and he took our means of life. Just imagine, two thirteen-year-olds stuck alone on a tree branch ready to die. Primrose was there. She was so beautiful, so strong. I couldn't swim and I was so scared, so worried. She looked right at me with those eyes…and she told me she loved me. She told me straight out. I heard her voice, sad and broken. And then I kissed her. I kissed her because I needed her and she needed me. I kissed her because I couldn't stand not telling her I loved her. And then the wave came over us and she kept me alive. But even as it came over us she kept kissing me. So that was…yours was better," I finish awkwardly.

But Elly shakes her head, her lips parted, still staring. "Oh, my God," she says. "Oh, my God…you…her…ready to die…about to drown…Ian, you really love her, don't you."

"Yeah, Elly, but I love you too," I whisper, ashamed of my own heart. God, I'm such an idiot, such…a…idiot…

Her eyes are so pained, so upset. "Oh, Ian…" she murmurs. "If only you knew." Her hair falls across her face as she rubs her arm and a spot on her back.

"That you love me too?" I say eagerly, allowing my hopes to soar.

But she only smiles wryly. "You can dream."

My hopes crash back down around me, shattering and breaking. Yep. Good Ian, letting myself fall in love so stupidly. Go me.

"You _would _do that," she says.

"Do what?"

"Ruin the walk," Elly teases, smiling at me. She's amazing at averting disaster. "God, I feel like I know nothing about you. Wanna play a game?"

"Oh, God."

She laughs, hard. "You're too funny; stop being funny."

"Stop being beautiful and you've got a deal." I blurt it out before I can stop myself.

But Elly looks flattered. "You…you think I'm beautiful?" she asks.

"As hell," I finish, and she looks even more delighted.

"That means everything to me, Ian, knowing that I was pretty, then ugly, and now—beautiful, according to you." Her eyes shine as she hugs me tightly, grinning that heart-stopping grin. "Okay. So the game goes like this. It's called To Be Honest. I'm going to ask you a question. Rule one: you have to be honest. I don't like liars. I suggest you not lie."

I laugh too. "Okay. No lying."

"Rule two: if you pass, I win."

"Oooh, that _kills_," I say, and she nods, a satisfied smirk on her face.

"Passing equals instant loser. I've never passed in a game of To Be Honest before. Oh, there's one more minor rule. Rule three: you have to start each sentence with the words 'To be honest'. Easy enough, right?"

"Mm," I say, and she literally tears with laughter.

"You're the best friend _ever_," she gasps, clutching her sides.

"I know. I know. It's okay, it's okay, you're okay," I say, consolingly, making her laugh harder.

"Shut…up…you…are…going…to…kill…me…" she manages. I smile and shut up.

Elly regains her composure with a final "ha!"

"Ready?" she says, with the same evil smile as the day I first met her.

"Yeah," I say, almost afraid of what she's going to come up with.

"Do you miss 12?"

"To be honest, yes and no: yes, I miss the people, no, I don't miss the Peacekeepers, famine, and broken families." I sigh slightly. Then I give Elly her question: "What's the scariest thing that's ever happened to you?"

"I'll give you the second scariest, because I've got loads to tell you. The first scariest was part of one of my—actually, it _was_ the ultimate Worst Days. I swear I'll tell you the first one. But it'll be later.

"To be honest, the second scariest thing that ever happened to me was the doctor telling me I had cancer, which is a hair above the third scariest, which was when I woke up and I was literally suffocating because of the lung and throat cancer combo. It was like President Snow and the Devil himself had a baby."

"God, the first scariest must be…"

"…much worse," she finishes wearily. "Okay. Chocolate or vanilla?"

"Seriously?" I say, laughing.

"It's a serious question! Besides, I think we should stick to the easy-breezy-lemon-squeezy ones first. Chocolate or vanilla?"

"To be honest, vanilla. Something about the plainness comforts me."

"Okay, that's worth a _seriously_. Vanilla is comforting to you. Nice." She stops dead, throwing an arm out. "Turn left here. It's going to get dark."

"Dark…?"

I see what she means in a few seconds. The tiny cave opening between two boulders, just large enough for a person build like Elly to slip through, lies right ahead. And it is pitch-black.

"I couldn't light it up. Otherwise everyone would come flocking to it. I've seen plenty of valuable things the deeper down you go. But we don't have to go very deep at all to get to Otherplace."

I smile, trying to hide the nervousness. I happen to be claustrophobic and deathly afraid of dark, enclosed, cold, wet places.

"How deep?" I say, expertly hiding the overcoming wave of nausea.

"It's not the center of the earth or anything. No, about a minute downward. Don't fall. It'll hurt."

"Fun," I say confidently while everything blurs.

My manner: _Oh, not a big deal. I do this every day. God, how easy! That's all?_

My brain: _OH MY GOD IAN YOU'RE GONNA DIE GOODBYE WORLD YEP I'M DONE FOR WITH THIS NUTCASE WE'RE GONNA DIE IN A CAVE HOW FUN YEP LORD HELP ME I'M NEVER GONNA GET MARRIED_

Elly puts one foot in, readies her hands, and drops the other foot in. Holding herself up with her elbows, she says nonchalantly, "It's a bit of a drop, but it's really not a big deal. Maybe ten, eleven feet? I've got padding at the bottom. Well, I've got—er—scattered straw." She smiles, trying to ease my now-apparent trembles. "Just—try to land with your legs bent, otherwise you might—um—hurt yourself."

And she falls. I hear her land on her bent legs.

"C'mon down, it's okay, I'll catch you if you slip!"

"YOU CAN'T LIFT ME!" I burst, unable to control my fear.

"Yes, I can, I've carried things much, much, much heavier than you…" For a second it seems like she's fallen, because I hear a thud, a slight "oh, oh" and a sniff, but then she calls up, sounding like she's got a head cold, "damn straw. I'm allergic."

I walk over to the opening. I can see Elly, her head bent as she sneezes. Well, I think she's sneezing…And I see a rough, makeshift pile of straw, hardly enough to support someone my weight.

But I drop.

It's actually quite nice, rushing downward, nothing to stop me. Although it only lasts a second or two, I feel invincible.

And then I land on bent legs, face screwed up in a wince, with Elly laughing like there was no tomorrow.

"You idiot, I was kidding! There's like three feet of straw here!" she says, through sneezes. "Let's get out of here, I'm gonna die soon." She holds out a hand, which I take grudgingly, and leads me out of another, bigger hole on the other side.

Otherplace is breathtaking. There's a crystalline river that runs amok, vegetation and wildflowers growing around it, birds and butterflies adorning the air. The trees, green as emeralds, sway lovingly in the light breeze. It seems warmer here than outside of the cave. A giant cavern is home to the cave, thirty feet off the ground, and I can see everything. But the few feet in front of me seem like inches. I cling to Elly's hand, but she only smiles. She pulls me gently toward a steep stone staircase that was built, obviously, as a makeshift for something that was never finished. Clumsily thrown together, it is full of cracks and missing steps.

"H-how?" I whisper, the earth vibrating.

_ "Just trust me."_

And I look into her eyes, her big, beautiful eyes, and want to kiss her so badly that I stumble forward…

…and I feel the nice feeling of rushing downward…


	9. Chapter 9

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 9_

**A/N: I am SO SORRY about lack of updates. That last chapter took awhile because I completely rewrote it. At first, it was Prim's POV again, and she had this really long nightmare that was totally off-point and random, and I really was just like **_**what is wrong with me **_**and so I invented Otherplace. Please, enjoy Ch. 9!**

Chapter 9—Interviewee

katniss wipes her eyes. "let's do this."

i smile for the first time in weeks. "thank you, katniss, thank you…oh, my god, i love you!" i attempt to get up but merely struggle for a second before collapsing, breathless, eyebrows raised at katniss.

she laughs nervously. "here. i'll go get the doctors to unbind you. stay happy." she winks, i laugh, and she leaves.

_i'm really going._

_ i'm coming to see you, ian!_

_ and we'll see how healthy your girlfriend is after i meet her…_

_ she gone get jacked up._

i bite my lip, hiding a grin.

but a second later i feel sad because on the news they've been following "victor's mystery lover". she's beautiful. she's witty. and she and ian are madly in love. i feel my eyes sting but flick the tears away angrily. she's prolly amazing. she's prolly genius. and ian's prolly head-over-heels for her. just like he said he was for me. but he lied.

_is the capitol making it up?_

_ are they trying to get us to 10?_

_ it's a trap, most likely._

_but what if it isn't?_

these questions turn themselves over and over and over in my head and i feel like exploding because the battle inside of me is raging. everything is different now that he's found a new person. someone better, someone much more beautiful, someone smarter, and i miss him.

i hate him and love him at the same time.

"prim! prim!" katniss calls gleefully. i furiously wipe my again-sodden eyes once more and call back, plastering a fake but convincing smile on my face, "yes?"

"you can get up now! c'mon!"

i stand up, quite pleased. i slip my legs off of the bed, stretch happily, and walk around, regaining feeling in my legs. i jump and twirl and don't even realize that there's a security camera until i see katniss, yelling for haymitch to keep the footage rolling. i pretend i don't hear her and keep running around like a little girl, the little girl i once was. before the games robbed me of my innocence and my happiness, when i was a little girl with a fragile heart and a strong one too; i think as i keep leaping across tiles, now playing a sort of random hopscotch.

"oh, primrose…" katniss laughs, joining me and twirling me around. we dance a sort of mad jig for awhile but are red-faced from laughing so hard. eventually i start tearing up and katniss clutches her stomach, still in hysterics. this feeling, of being with a person who i can _be sure_ loves me, is just amazing and gives me a sense of relief and security.

"let's go. i'm getting you the hell out of here. it's so dumb," she says, her voice low. "the doctors keep telling me that 'i need a checkup'. i don't need a freaking checkup. they need a brain checkup." i giggle nervously. "oh, don't be like that. it's fine. they're just all idiots. all capitol doctors, of course, and _haymitch _requested the hospital. what runs through that man's walnut of a brain i will never know."

"i'm going to change out of this," i say, disgusted, looking down at the sheet of fabric that covers my body. "it's the most uncomfortable thing i've ever worn in the history of me."

"not to mention the ugliest," my mother chimes in, sticking her head in the doorframe.

i throw a shoe at her and she ducks, only to reemerge laughing. "you gotta work on your aim, missy." i only stick my tongue out showing defeat. "okay. let's get you out of here and to i—"

katniss clears her throat automatically and gives my mother a stern look.

"—to indigo's house," my mother finishes coolly. "surely you knew that?"

"who's indigo?" i say, slightly nervous.

"your auntie, _of course you remember her._" she also gives me a look.

i have no auntie indigo, so i am under the impression that it must be a trick.

"oh yeah, but why today, mom, can't we go tomorrow, i'm so tired…" i yawn widely and then give both of them a look. okay. there's way too much looking going on and i finally just take the bundle of clothes katniss has handed me and go into the bathroom to change.

she's given me…

a dress

a pink, short, light, flouncy, cutesy dress

oh my god

i pull it on, revolted, and then find something even worse.

a makeup kit, with light pink lipstick and eyeshadow and hair ribbons.

_ "katniss!"_

"you have to look presentable," she says, annoyingly stern, as i walk out of the bathroom, fuming. "you need to look girly and innocent. _that's what the capitol wants,_" she finishes loudly, her eyes darting up to the ceiling.

a camera, that's why we're hiding something, we're being watched. of course, now it all fits.

"you're giving interviews today. don't look at me that way, it's not my fault!" katniss says, as i groan and shoot her a dirty, furious look. "it's only a few things…just be honest…oh, and i forgot, your senses have been down since the jump. that's why things might be a bit fuzzy and dizzy right now, they're going to give you some medicine, i'm not sure when—"

and just as she says that, two doctors strut in—yeah, they're got a hell of a nerve—and one, a lady with a face coated in white makeup, holds up a needle. i recoil instantly, but the man, who has shocking blue hair, only shakes his head.

"don't worry, dearest," he says. his is voice fatherly and incredibly fake.

it makes me want to actually jump into another river.

"it'll only take two seconds, and then you'll be in high-definition for your interviews today!" the lady smiles, her voice as bubbly as a shaken-up soda.

and then the lady is firmly grasping my arm, cleaning it with a cotton swab, and the man sticks the syringe in. it stings…

…but soon it's over and I feel refreshed. "Thanks that really helped!" I say, though still really annoyed. Bubbly Lady and Electric Man both beam at each other and burst into speech.

"Oh, no _problem, _cutie."

"It was absolutely nothing, nothing at all!"

"Don't go jumping into any more rivers, now!"

"Have a lovely interviewing day, and make sure to mention Larvae Shoemaker and Dervish Hoppers!"

And with that, Katniss comes in carrying my luggage and we're off to ASD-45, our hovercraft, nicknamed "The Guzzle" because of the enormous amount of fuel it requires.

"God, those doctors were annoying," she says as we walk over to the vehicle. She puts on a happy, squeaky voice. "Why, _toodle-oo, _Primrose, dearest dear dearie darling! Please mention Too-Happy McAnnoyingVoice and Perky LaughsALot at your next stupid interview! Don't try to kill yourself again, oh heck, do it again for all I care! More money for me! Idiots, every single one of them."

I laugh, and Katniss beams at me. "So, the convention…?"

"When is it?"

"They changed the date because of 'unfortunate circumstances,' which basically means you. It's in a month." She winks at me. "I really would love if we went. District Four is the perfect opportunity to get better on my fishing skills, plus a bit of foreign animal hunting, I wonder if they'd let me take a few Four-based fish, to breed at home—"

"Can't we just go and relax? You know, go to the beach, see the cities, and meet people at the convention, please?" I plead, not wanting to go fishing or hunting at all.

"I wouldn't worry about that now. You"—she looks around, then lowers her voice—"need to get to Ian, and we need Haymitch for that."

"Need Haymitch for what?" Haymitch says loudly as we reach The Guzzle. "I'd be happy to volunteer to watch all the rivers."

When the doctors said it, they were just joking. When Katniss said it, she was trying to lighten me up. But whenever Haymitch says something that's clearly supposed to be a joke (well, sometimes it is), it always stings, because with Haymitch, you can never tell. And right now he's obviously drunk.

"Shut up, Haymitch," I say quietly.

"Oho, _annoyed, _are we?" Haymitch says, delighted. "Poor little Primrose, away from _Lover Boy_—"

_"She said SHUT UP!" _Katniss screams, swiping at him. He takes it full on in the face, slamming into the wing of the aircraft. Nose gushing blood, he swears loudly.

"I didn't do anything wrong," he snarls, eyes narrowed.

"You did—you did," Katniss heaves, her eyes narrowed as well. "Lover Boy—Prim—oh, you—"

She takes another furious swing at Haymitch, this one landing square in the chest.

Haymitch stumbles backward, one hand drabbling in the blood flowing from his face. "Why the hell are you attacking me, sweetheart?"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" she yells, flinging the maps at him and storming up the hovercraft, tears in her eyes.

Haymitch turns to me, his eyes questioning.

"It's from the Games she was in…the Careers called Peeta 'Lover Boy'…I don't know why a reminder of Peeta would upset her, though…" But I step on Haymitch's foot hard and put my arm up to his neck. He stares at me blankly. _"If you ever—EVER—make fun of Ian again I will personally use you as tracker jacker bait."_

Haymitch actually looks fearful. He nods slowly, his eyes full of something I've never seen in his eyes before: pity. "Alright, darling," he says drawlingly, eyes still angry and pitiful at the same time.

I thrust my arm back from his body and look at him, hard, before turning dramatically and walking up the steps to find Katniss wiping her eyes gently. She puts on a beautiful smile as I sit down next to her.

"Impressive half-headlock," she says, her voice too calm. "I couldn't have done it—better myself."

"Thanks," I say, rather sheepishly. Then I switch subjects. "Is everything okay with Peeta?"

Her eyes dart to the window and back. "Yes," she replies stiffly, "everything's fine. What makes you say that?"

"Well—your reaction—to—to the whole 'Lover Boy' thing—I just thought—you don't usually let—let Haymitch—get to you like—like that…" I trail off, wringing my hands slightly, eyes searching Katniss's face. A single tear clings to her eyelashes.

"I swear I'll tell you later," she whispers, more to herself than to me. "I swear. Everything's okay, just…just let me…"

I get up and say mechanically, "I'm going to go talk to Cassia."

Cassia is the nineteen-year-old, cool, classy, gorgeous hovercraft pilot who is incredibly good at giving advice. I met her one day as she smiled, tossed her straight blond hair back, and said, "Hey, you wanna see how to fly an airplane?" I nodded and she actually took me into the cockpit and flew me for a half hour, pointing out different controls. She didn't even know me, besides the fact that I won the Games, and that I was Katniss's sister.

Katniss nods slightly, her braid falling across her shoulder. She blinks and the tear falls down her cheek as she stares out the window.

I walk a ways to find Cassia James sitting in the cockpit, painting her nails indigo.

"Hey, missy," she says in a very relaxed and not-afraid voice, considering that we're going to break into another district, kidnap someone, and fly back, unnoticed. "You doing okay?"

"No," I say miserably. "My sister's all depressed because of something that's wrong with Peeta; my boyfriend has a girlfriend; I'm debating whether to bring that girlfriend…Everything is wrong, Cassia, everything is wrong."

"Aww, not everything's wrong. I'm sure Katniss will cheer up, Peeta can handle loads. He's been in the freaking Hunger Games, hasn't he? She'll prolly brighten in a few days. As for bringing 'the girlfriend', I dunno. Do you wanna make Ian happy or be the only girl in his life?"

"Both sound tempting," I sigh, putting my hands over my face.

"Hey. Hey, you're gonna be fine," Cassia says consolingly, getting up and putting a comforting hand on the small of my back. Nipping by the fridge, she grabs me a soda and sits me down. "You're gonna see him in what, a week, is it?"

"Yeah," I sigh. Another thing postponed because of "unfortunate circumstances"; I basically delayed every event that was going to happen.

"And you're getting interviewed today, aren't you?" Cassia asks, making me groan.

"Yeah, are you going to watch it? They're airing it live at seven…god, they just won't leave me alone…"

Cassia's green eyes widen. "You're famous! I mean, not for something you'd like, obviously, but at least you're not selling chunks of goat cheese for food! You've got money now! It's a much better lifestyle, or, at least, easier!"

I shake my head. "It's not. It's not better or easier. Sometimes I wish I was back in my old, grubby house with Lady, next to Katniss and my mother and my father, smiling and laughing and hugging Father and Katniss as they came home from hunting, Katniss with a real, real grin on her face half a mile wide, Mother full of life, sweeping up the katniss tubers to make a fantastic meal, Father hanging his jacket on the back of his chair, complaining about the coal dust on his shaving mirror that I always cleaned, and then at dinner he'd sing 'Thank You To The World' and we'd all join in the chorus, the part where you say thank you to your family and friends and love, Katniss with her beautiful lower voice, my father's high clear voice mixing with my mother's misty, mysterious one, and my squeaky chirps to top it all off, and then we eat and it's really good, and then Father would sit us down and tell us stories, my eyes wide and Katniss's excitement evident, and that was when we were still so innocent, so lovely, so sweet…"

It's awhile before I feel that my cheeks are wet. Cassia has two bright red patches on her cheeks, looking horrified.

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry, missy, so sorry…"

"Quite alright," I mumble, ashamed of my tears.

"Well, didn't you hear, I'm accompanying you to the interviews," she says quietly, still embarrassed. "Instead of Katniss, she's got an appointment or something, wasn't very clear on the instructions…anyway, I thought we'd go out for a late meal and shopping, maybe, to keep your cheerfulness levels up, d'you wanna?"

I nod happily. "Oh, yes, oh, yes, yes, yes, I'd love that!"

Cassia smiles and ruffles my hair. I beam at her. "Thanks for the advice, Cassia; I'll see you at six-thirty."

"Right-o," she says excitedly, giving me a thumbs-up and turning to the control pad as I walk down the hall, immensely relieved.

_**Three and a half hours later**_

Caesar Flickman's smile is so wide and bright that it nearly blinds me from offstage.

"Today, folks, as I'm sure you're aware of, we have a very special guest," he says in that deep voice that's actually not annoying. "You've heard of her in the news lately, and she's won a certain _competition…_ladies and gentlemen, I give you…_Primrose Everdeen!"_

I walk out, a huge smile on my face, waving.

_Haymitch's instructions:_

_ Be innocent, be happy, be enthusiastic, and get them to fall in love with you._

Since there were no tribute interviews last year (they wanted to make the families suffer as fast as possible), I have to give the crowd the right image of innocent, sweet little Primrose, as cute as her name.

My dress is a deep, midnight blue, covered in glittering rhinestones at the top and the bottom is flouncy and plain but beautiful. My hair is in my signature "Waterfall Ponytails" and I wear the same colored flats as my dress. The makeup makes me look young but still mature, with the darkish blue eyeshadow, the mascara, and the nude lipstick combining to make me look thirteen again. I begged Lauren and Logan to let me change outfits, and they convinced the Capitol that maturity would make it look less fake, as if the viewers would even be able to tell.

"I know what you're thinking, folks!" Caesar says, looking awestruck as I curtsey and sit down. _"Wow! _The woman of the hour arrives!" He gets up and pretends to bow. I laugh along with the audience, trying to ignore the cameras and the lights.

"What a welcome!" I say appreciatively. "I'm so happy to be here today, Caesar. Although the suit you're wearing clashes horribly with my dress…" I laugh again, drawing a big hoot.

"Well, an eye for fashion! I do apologize, in the future hopefully we will be able to coordinate our outfits more, yes, we will have to," he says with a grin, looking down at his electric red suit covered in glitter. "So! Where to begin? We didn't have the chance to meet, seeing as everything was big rush! Let's start with this: how do you like the victor lifestyle?"

I flashback to everything I told Cassia. But that's much too personal.

"It's amazing," I gush, doing exactly as Haymitch told me to. "My Victor's Village house is the most beautiful thing, although I don't deny I miss my old home just a bit. But having money for once…I wish I could thank every single person who made this possible!"

Caesar smiles, continuing, "How lovely, how lovely; rewinding a bit, what was your initial reaction to being reaped?"

"Well, I knew it was a Quarter Quell, but I had no idea what was going to happen. When they called my name, at first I was shocked, but never truly afraid…mostly dread, because I never wanted to kill anyone, ever…" I draw a breath. "I'm sorry," I say. "I just…I only killed one, and he was my ally for awhile…" I'm not lying. This is really quite heart-wrenching.

There's a collective "aww" from the audience as Caesar pats my back. "I'm sorry, darling, but look at you now! As beautiful as can be!" He smiles and puts a hand over mine. He switches topics, saying, "How is your dear sister, the girl on fire? Miss Katniss?"

"Oh, she's fine. We get along fine. She's a bit…well…between me and you, Caesar," I start, and then say in a very loud whisper, "she's a bit of a Debbie downer."

The audience giggles nervously. Caesar nods and winks, whispering in the same loud mutter as I did, "Our little secret.

"Alright, next question: how is your, and I quote, 'true love'?"

My heart and stomach both sink. "Well, I assume you've heard the rumors…" I decide to be honest. "I really don't know. His girlfriend is prettier, and smarter, and better than me. Ian—he doesn't love me anymore, as far as I know." Tears seep down my cheeks, and I try to keep my breathing even. My makeup, which must be waterproof, itches and the dress is splattered from my crying.

"Oh, my goodness!"

"What a traitor!"

"Teenagers these days, I tell you!"

The auidences' reactions are varied, from sadness to anger to pure hatred for the boy who I loved—and might still love—and I feel a horrible, terrible amount of white-hot triumph.

"I'm really sorry for falling apart, Caesar. I'm just a bit sensitive…love is powerful, you know."

And then I draw my eyes to the viewers. "Love is powerful, and heartbreaking, but really, it's insane. It can drive you to the brink of madness: from longing, from jealousy, from happiness, even from love itself. It's a force to be reckoned with. Love is either rock-solid or as thin as a hair. It either snaps instantly or holds fast forever. It either fits perfectly or will always be loose. Real love isn't 'oh, he's cute, I think I love him', it's 'he's amazing, he's wonderful, _he makes me happy_.' Love doesn't judge. Love doesn't snap. Love is perfect, except for the fact that it is insane. Insanity isn't necessarily a flaw, though. Insanity means losing yourself. It means forgetting who you are. And that can be good…or bad. The hardest part about love is that it can split. You can love two, three, four, loads more at once. It's tough, the decision. Should you take the funny guy or the romantic? Should you choose the sweetheart over the athlete? The real question is: does he make you happy? Of course, it could be a girl too, but love isn't gender-restricted.

"I thought I loved someone. Maybe I still do, I'm working everything out. I thought he loved me too. I really—I don't think so anymore. Not talking for two years has thinned everything out. I wish I could talk to him with all my heart. I just miss him. Distance has thinned us out, and I miss him like hell. I don't even know—I just—god—love is confusing. But you just can't resist loving love."

There's silence for awhile. I keep my eyes raised.

And then, there's a rumble of applause. There are viewers wiping their eyes, their noses, and even Caesar's looking watery. I smile warily, and Caesar lifts my hand wordlessly.

The cheers seem to last a lifetime. They go on and on, whistles and hoots and so—much—clapping. Effie is in the front row, screaming madly and applauding even madder. Her green fox-fur hat has fallen off, so her mint-tinged locks are visible.

"My, my…" Caesar chokes slightly. "That was beautiful, Miss Primrose…you miss him a lot, do you?"

"I do."

"Well, we have a surprise for you…"

He pushes a button and a giant screen unveils to the right of me, covering the wall that says _Lights! Camera! Action! Words with Caesar! Live at 7 every night!_

Ian's face fills the room.

"IAN!" I yell!

But he only moans and shifts in…what? What? Why is he lying on a hospital cot? Why is his head bandaged so severely? And why is his girlfriend grasping his hand tightly, staring at him with such intensity that she barely heard my yell?

"Oh, my god," I say aloud, and she turns.

It's Elly Opal.

I know her.

_I know her!_

_**WHAT IS SHE DOING?**_


	10. Chapter 10

Don't Look Back—Chapter 10

**A/N: More updates! Fun stuff! Okay that last chapter was really something. It was incredibly suspenseful at the end, huh? I like torturing people…enjoy Ch. 10!**

Chapter 10—Recognition

Elly's POV 

_Two days earlier_

"IAN!" I scream as he drops, yelling "ELLY! ELLY!" His arms flail madly and he scrapes the rock for any grips, anything, anything to hold onto. I'm frozen with terror except for my mouth, which screams "DON'T DIE DON'T DIE DON'T DIE" over and over and over and him yelling up at me "I WON'T I WON'T I WON'T" and we're both just shrieking and shrieking and no one can do anything and the lord knows what is running through his head as he falls down, down, down

And then he collides with the rock, actually bouncing upward once before landing again and I hear a snap and I start sobbing as I practically tumble down the stairs, thinking _not his neck not his neck please not his neck _as if that would somehow change the outcome.

It's not his neck, thank the heavens, because he landed on his knees, but they look broken and his spinal cord seems to have gotten some damage and that sends me into another round of mental hysterics as I start fretting about how to get him up the rough stone stairs.

But then, oh, then, I see something in his pocket. _A PHONE! _I see the code etched onto it and then two more codes. One, in scrappy handwriting, reads _primrose 4221 _and another reads _haymitch 0676_; I decide that his girlfriend might be a bit out of control, with her suicide attempt and all, and she might fly into tears and screams and I don't want her to worry like I am, so I punch in 0-6-7-6 and listen to the rings, the tears slipping down my cheeks as I prop Ian up and lay his head in my lap.

After what seems like a tiny eternity Haymitch picks up, his voice slurred and nearly incoherent.

"Whatta ya want, Ian," he says, sounding amused. "Girlie problems?"

"Haymitch, please listen: My name is Elly but that's not important. I'm Ian's—friend and he just fell off a huge cliff, and he's unconscious, and I need help. Is there anything you could possibly do to help?"

There's a pause as Haymitch drinks in the words like he would his alcohol.

"Please!" I say a more desperate edge to my voice. "Please, Haymitch, we need help!"

Another pause, a sigh, and a clink of a bottle. "I be over fastly, girl, and ya best be ready…what are the coordinates?"

_One day earlier_

"IAN!" I yell, pounding on the door. "LET—ME—SEE—HIM!" I struggle against the two doctors' grips, kicking and punching and screaming as I make for the door twice more.

"No, no!" the doctor says, her fake eyelashes hanging from her eyes, "he's unconscious, dear; you won't be able to—"

"I—DON'T—CARE!"

"He mustn't be disturbed, sweetie," the other doctor says, her wig askew. "He needs quiet."

"I'LL BE QUIET IF YOU LET ME IN THE DAMN ROOM!"

They look to each other, sighing, and in their hesitation I finger the doorknob and try to burst into the room, but this time a smaller hand takes mine and tugs gently. I look down angrily and see Diana standing there, her eyes full of pity, saying softly "It's no use, Elly, you won't help…"

"Diana, I need to see him, you wouldn't understand, you haven't—"

She turns to the doctors and starts to wail. "Please, please, please let me in, I have to see my brother, I'll be quiet, I'll be quiet, I promise…" And she wipes away pretend tears, sobbing incoherent words. I catch on and play along, saying, "I'm with her, I'm supposed to be watching her, I'm sorry."

"Oh…fine, go in, but one peep and you're out," the lady says, rubbing her forehead. "I just don't see why you'd want to talk to someone who can't talk back…"

"Why do you care for people who can't recover?" I ask softly, and her expression changes slowly.

"Because…they…" She cuts off, and then says peevishly, "Get out."

"I'm Elly Opal."

She gasps and then puts a hand over her heart. "Oh, my goodness…you…should've said…just…stay as long…as long as you like…"

"Thank you," I say curtly, and pull Diana into the room with me.

Ian lies there, bloodied and bruised, and I start crying again; Diana starts crying with me, and Ian rouses slightly.

"Oh, my god, _Ian_…"

"What's happened to him?"

I explain tearfully to Diana exactly what happened, from the stumble to the fall to my screams to his yells to Haymitch's slur to the hovercraft pickup.

"…and this is my entire fault, all my fault, I let him get too close, _I let him too far in_…"

Diana pats my hand calmly. I'm enraged by the fact that she was crying _before_ I told her everything but _afterward_ she's fine. I want her to cry with me again. She's the _only one_ who I told the whole story to. I don't even know why. I feel something about Diana, something warm and cold, something strong and weak, and it puzzles me. I need to be on my guard but at the same time I feel okay with telling Diana everything.

"It's not your fault," she says slowly, as though trying to put two and two together. "You didn't _let him too far in_, that's a bit selfish of you to think that he loved you _so much_ that even you couldn't control it. Love can always be controlled, even if you can only control it for a millisecond. Besides, you don't even know if that's exactly why he fell. It's probably not, you realize? Think of how stupid that sounds. 'He loved me so much he fell off a cliff.'"

"It's not—"

"Yes, it is," Diana says fiercely, "it really is and you are so blind by yourself that you can't see it. That's your flaw. You're conceited."

"Conceited—"

_"Think about it!" _she snaps. "Think! For a second, just think: maybe Ian didn't fall _because of you_. The world does not revolve around you. Ian does not revolve around you. You _like_ that Ian wants what he can't have. You enjoy it. _Ian does not love you and only you. _He loves someone else even more; I suspect he's just dreadfully lonely."

"I'm not _conceited—_"

_"LISTEN TO YOURSELF!_ You are beautiful and sweet, but you are _vain. _There are two types of vanity: those who realize it and either accept or deny it, and those who do not see it and cannot accept it, but will always deny it. You are a mix of the first and second type. You do not see it. You cannot accept it. You will always deny it. You must think I'm a right little liar, but I suspect you know the truth yourself, making you a mix."

"Rubbish—"

"See? You can't accept that I know something you don't. You cannot accept anyone being better than you at anything."

Diana turns and walks up to Ian, whispering words that my numb brain cannot register.

_You're conceited…the world does not revolve around you…not you and only you…denial, denial…a mix of vanity…_

Am I vain? Am I blinded by the thought of me as a pretty, intelligent, sweet girl? Is the vanity deep down or frothing over the top? I mean, I don't like being wrong, but who doesn't? I can accept defeat…I think…

"Diana…"

"It's the truth," she says, altogether unashamed. "It really is and it's time, much past time, you realize that."

I scowl at her, privately thinking of how wise she is for a little girl. It's a bit unnerving, really, that she gets everything that I don't. How many little girls tell you how conceited you are, and why? I mean, one might say "Ugh, you're so full of yourself," but never "You're a mix of the first and second types of jealousy". It's just not _natural._

"Prim…rose…"

I hear Ian's voice and everything comes crashing back to earth. _He's alive. He's alive…and…and the first thing he said was…was…Primrose…_

"I _AM_ CONCEITED!" I yell, sobbing.

Diana nods, looking sad, but still nods. "I'm afraid it's true," she says softly.

"It's—not—your—FAULT!" I scream, wanting to hurt myself. "It's my fault, all mine, every single ounce of it and you knew and you told me and I didn't believe you and it's me, all me, and I'm sorry Diana…"

_"Primrose."_

"SHE'S NOT HERE!" I shriek, so devastated by the fact that I was wrong about myself, who I really was, and I'm such a lying, messed up, fricking idiot that I didn't see it. "SHE'S NOT HERE, IAN, AND I AM, AND I SHOULDN'T BE, I SHOULD'VE BEEN THE ONE THAT FELL OFF A GODDAMN CLIFF—"

"Elly…?"

"YEAH, YOU IDIOT, IT'S ME, WHO ELSE WAS WITH YOU AT THE CLIFF?"

"Her…"

"Shut up and let him talk!" Diana whispers furiously.

"She…there…caught…no hurt…just…fire?" Ian becomes too weary to talk and I want to scream again and again and scream and make people hate me. I am dumb, I am useless, like the insignificant little white crayon that I am. That's who I am. A useless white crayon.

"I'm a white crayon," I whisper through quivering lips. "I'm a stupid white crayon."

"You just have to find someone who prefers black paper," Diana says kindly, and I vow to remember this quote forever and ever because it was the one thing that brought me hope again, these words from a little girl, a little girl who two seconds ago called me conceited.

"Black paper," I repeat, smiling slightly.

From that moment onward, Diana and I became allies, friends, even. After her screams of me being vain, I thought nothing of her, but two minutes later she told me I wasn't insignificant, only different.

Ian opens his eyes blearily.

"Hi, Reseda," I say quietly.

"Hi, Opal," he murmurs, and I laugh into his shoulder. He smiles weakly.

"I took some fall, huh?" Ian's smile is pained but happy, brighter than the sun in the middle of July.

I start to cry. "Oh, my g-good g-god, Ian R-Reseda, you better sh-shut up before I h-hit you, you inconsiderate d-dirtbag, joking at a t-time like this," I sob and laugh at the same time, and Ian laughs with me.

"I'm sorry, my charm seems to be stuck on 'make them girls go loco'."

I laugh so hard, still sobbing, that I collapse into a chair, breathless. "You are a _crapload _of a jerk," I say.

And then, then, something happens. Something indescribable, so indescribable, that it nearly chokes me, and I make a little "erg" noise, and I feel light-headed and blinded and warm and fuzzy and all I see are Ian's eyes, little emeralds in the rough, and I see his smile, untouched by injuries, just pure and whole and I hear him swearing through a window and I feel my feet pounding against the ground as I run over to it and I remember thinking _God can you not_ and then I yelled at him and I decided to be a little devil-girl and turn the charm on—selfishly, because I'm a messed up little earthworm—and make him come but really, really truly, he made me come, and I realize right then and there, in an armchair, messy-haired and tear-soaked, that _I am in love with Ian Reseda._

_Present_

"It's okay, Ian! It's just—just a nightmare!"

_"No…no…NOOOOO! PRIMROSE! ELLY! NOOOOOOOO!" _He yells, flailing, almost socking me in the face, and I squeeze his hand and whisper into his ear, my lips dangerously close to his, "I'm okay. Primrose is okay. You're okay. We're all okay."

He trembles a bit more, breathes, and stills with a final "no". I sigh. I want him to be awake. I want him to talk to me and make me laugh and make me cry and make me want to kiss him.

_Primrose. _Her name is beautiful, she is beautiful, and he loves her. Ian really does love her, I can tell. We never did finish To Be Honest. But I have a feeling if I asked who he loved more, he'd say Primrose. He did say he loved me. But I—I turned him down. It's the only unselfish thing I've ever done in my life. My whole goddamn life, everything selfish but this. Beating cancer for myself. Not my family, oh no, I had to survive.

And of course there's the other thing. The Big Big Big Thing, the Thing of all Things, the Thing that I can't even reveal to myself, the Thing that I should hate myself for but SELFISHLY I don't BECAUSE I AM A MOTHERFREAKING MESSED UP HUMAN BEING

AND NOW I FRICKING DO HATE MYSELF

GOD I AM A WORTHLESSWORTHLESSWORTHLESSPIECEOFCRAP!

"I'm sorry for being stupid, Ian. I'm sorry for being selfish. I'm sorry for being horrible. I'm sorry for being dumb. I'm sorry for being crap. I'm sorry for being jealous. I'm sorry for being someone I'm not. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, _I am motherfreaking sorry."_

I hear a sound behind me. Another fricking nurse, prolly, and I'm fricking sick of their fricking "requests" for me to fricking be quiet because they need to frick and frack. I HATE EVERYTHING AT THE MOMENT ESPECIALLY MYSELF AND IT'S NOT GOOD.

"Oh, my god."

I whirl around to see myself on a screen, my ugly self shown to an audience of at least ten thousand, _Primrose Everdeen _with her hands over her mouth, and I REMEMBER THAT LOOK

"Elly Opal, I know you, I remember you, AND WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING WITH MY BOYFRIEND?!" Primrose says, horrified, and I feel like exploding.

"You—you—you—" I can't get the words out. "Capitol—you saw—oh—we were—oh—"

_"Oho! Looks like Primrose has some competition!"_ a sugary, fake voice exclaims.

Are we on a…talk show?!

_"I WANT ANSWERS!" _Primrose demands, but at this point I feel like fainting. "I'm sorry—he—fell—ohmigod—" Primrose seems to be crying and ifeelsososobad…

And then Ian stirs, opens his eyes, and starts yelling, and Primrose is yelling and they're screaming "I LOVE YOU HI OH MY GOD HI I LOVE YOU" over and over and I feel like an intruder so I back away but Ian says "no stay" and I have no choice but to sit and hear Primrose and Ian tell each other "I love you" over and over.

"I heard your voice and I thought I was dreaming but no Primrose I'm sorry I don't love Elly I love you I love you I LOVE YOU!" Ian says passionately, and Primrose is wiping tears of joy out of her eyes as she replies "I've missed you so much, so much, Ian, and I love you too more than you could ever know oh my god I love you I love you!"

_"Oh, look at the lovers!"_

"Hi, Caesar," Ian says with a grin, waving.

Caesar Flickman slides into view. "Hello there, Ian!"

"Sorry you have to see me like this," he sighs, and the audience laughs.

"You took quite a tumble, huh, Mister Reseda?"

"I did indeed." The audience laughs again.

"So, care to introduce your sister?"

Ian spots me and smiles weakly. "She's not my sister; she's my friend Elly Opal. Elly, meet Caesar and Primrose!"

"Odd meeting place," I say thoughtfully, regaining my composure. The audience chuckles along with Caesar.

"Quite indeed, m'dear! Well, that's all we have time for; I'm afraid, oh, no, dear, don't cry…" For Primrose's floodgates have opened.

She stops abruptly and looks straight at a camera somewhere else, and I see the love in Ian's eyes.

"May I say something directly to President Snow, perhaps?" she asks, her voice dripping with venom.

"Go right ahead, m'darling!"

"Do you see what you're _doing?_" she bursts, and my respect for her skyrockets, "Do you see this? Two people sobbing over a (insert-not-so-nice word here) SCREEN? I AND MY BOYFRIEND haven't seen each other personally in TWO AND A HALF YEARS! You are RIPPING lives APART! Let me SEE him, for GOD'S SAKE!"

And then she flounces right off the stage with a final "I love you" to Ian.


	11. Chapter 11

_Don't Look Back—Chapter 11_

**A/N: Hey everyone! I just wanted to thank you all for following my stories so loyally. I really, really love each and every one of you. Your support is unbelievable. **

**Also, I'm really not sure where to end this thing…how many chapters would YOU like it?**

**Enjoy Ch. 11!**

Chapter 11—Rescuing the Boyfriend Part Uno

Prim's POV

I keep my head high and proud, smiling smugly as I walk out of the studio; the earpiece that I've inserted is going crazy: Haymitch is _mad._

_ "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE YOURSELF!" _he screams, slamming something down.

"I was," I say calmly, the trees waving at me. "I was perfectly myself. That's what I just did, wasn't it? I was still myself."

_"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE PRETTY, DELICATE LITTLE PRIMROSE!" _Haymitch roars, so loudly that I have to rip the technology from my ear and hold it at arm's length.

"I was pretty, I hope, and I cried about three times during that interview, Haymitch."

_"YOU—YOU—"_

"Pick me up. We're busting Ian out of 10. Today."

My sudden change of topic bemuses him and then I can almost hear him arguing with himself.

"Fine," he snarls finally. I smile, satisfied, and sit down on a rock, the surface cool against my now-bare calves. I've pulled the dress up over my head. Instead of the lovely blue gown I wear comfortable denim shorts and a t-shirt that says _SUPPORT THE WAVE: THE 75__TH__ HUNGER GAMES_.

"Where are you, anyway?"

"Oh, for god's sake, Haymitch, you put a freaking _tracker_ in my _arm._ You of all people know where I am." I put a hand to my forehead in exhaustion. Haymitch is obviously hungover and grumpy. I'm not going to get anywhere by being nice, that'll only annoy him further. So I decide to beat him at his own game.

"Hurry _up,_" I whine. "I didn't get shot in the _vein _for nothing!"

_"I'm coming! Do you realize how long it takes to pick up THREE people?!" _Haymitch yells.

I freeze. _"Three? _Haymitch, this is a solo mission! We can't get _four_ people in and out of a FOREIGN DISTRICT in a matter of hours! That could take weeks of planning! You idiot!"

I've stepped over the line now. He pauses, allowing the full measure of my words to sink in. "WhatDidYouJustSay?" he growls.

I take a sharp breath. "I said 'you idiot'," I mumble in the same tone of voice. God, here comes the explosion—and yet, it does not come in the force that I thought it would.

"Listen, darling. I'm not giving up my free time, my wellbeing, and my SKILLS to be called an IDIOT. I'm picking up your sister, honey, and Peeta, and you. Do you want me to come for you, sugarplum? Because I really don't have to, you know. I could call your sorry BEHIND an idiot and jet off and get Ian and you can stay. Do you want that, girlie? 'Cause that can happen and I don't think you want that, darling. I mean, if you do—"

"No! No, no, no, it's okay."

"Good. Now, I best be off and you best be READY!" He cuts off, the line going flat. I sit there in silence, my heart pumping, my hands trembling. When Haymitch gets mad, he gets scary.

_BUT THREE PEOPLE?_ Who? Peeta, me, and Katniss?

I mean, I can understand Katniss, since I did technically say she could come (well, she said "we" instead of "you"), and she's also very good in a crisis, not to mention her archery skills. Peeta, on the other hand…he's calm and a deep-thinker but the problem is he's not well equipped. He's got a limp. He and Katniss have obviously been through the mill. I don't think I can handle a breakdown, more tears, or even just another refusal. It's now or never.

And then I think of Ian and Elly and Elly kissing Ian and Ian forgetting me and running off with Elly and I think of how I know Elly and how she was really nice and beautiful and it makes me hate hate hate her and I want her gone, erased, nothing because (wow I'm despicable) I AM IAN'S ONE AND ONLY GIRL IN HIS LIFE.

And for the next half hour I miserably think of Ian's eyes and his laugh and when I kissed him.

A rustling of leaves and a gust of air makes me look up. My heart leaps. Haymitch is here!

He shoots me a terrifying look and touches down, the wind so strong I'm glad I don't have a dress on. Haymitch lowers the door, jumps out, surveys me with distaste, and says sharply, over the whirring of the blades, "Get in."

I don't have to be told twice. I bundle up my dress, carry my tennis shoes with me, and start toward the hovercraft. As I walk beside Haymitch, he grips my arm tightly. I wince, not because of my arm but because of the smell. Haymitch _reeks_ of alcohol, rotten food, and puke.

"Listen, Primrose," he mutters. "We need to _remain silent_ about this. It's not a day-long trip. It could take several weeks, considering we're spending at least two days in each district we touch down in, not to mention extra search time." I open my mouth to argue with him, but his tone of voice tells me this is serious. "Don't get short, snappy, or devastated. We don't even know if we'll find the boy, let alone get him out of there. I'm just warning you: no outside contact. We've got enough to worry about." He releases my arm and I shiver slightly.

The vehicle's door is sleek and it's emblazed with a large _C_ on it.

"Are we disguising it as a Capitol hovercraft?" I ask quietly.

Haymitch nods. "No more talk here," he mumbles, "we're not in the clear. We need to leave, _stat_."

I board the aircraft and instantly feel safer. There's at least four people in the cockpit, one of them Cassia. I smile at her and she grins back, tucking her hair behind her ears. She's lovely, really. "This is James to Arab, I've got a Situation 12, and we'll be touched for about 5." She sets down her microphone and headpiece and says, relaxed, "Hey missy, I knew you'd show up." She winks, and I laugh. "I'm the pilot of this mission." She makes little pew-pew noises, making me giggle further. "Don't worry, Mitchy, I'm perfectly capable of flying this bucket of bolts," Cassia explains to Haymitch's half-murderous half-amused look.

"My name is Haymitch."

"Sure it is, Mitchy. I'll need bottled water, thanks." She makes shooing motions to Haymitch, who splutters out "I'm not your servant!"

"I happen to be the _captain_ of this _rescue mission!_" Cassia says, over exaggeratedly, her eyes wide. A half-smile plays across her lips as she tries to keep from grinning. "You will _get_ me a _drink!_"

"Oh, and Mitchy," I say sweetly, "could you possibly take a shower, or hasn't it been a month yet?"

Cassia erupts into laughter and high-fives me gleefully. "Just a little joke, Mister Mitchy; it's good to keep things light around here."

"Yeah, yeah, we've heard of the 'Captain's orders only' rule, yeah, you…" His voice trails off, apparently unable to come up with a fine enough insult to dampen the great Cassia James's spirit. Haymitch leaves with a final "tchah!"

Cassia ruffles my hair. "You're the best," she insists. "And we're going to _get your man out of 10!_"

"Is it really going to take weeks?" I ask, allowing my hopes to soar. Cassia smiles sadly. "Not plural," she sighs. I sigh as well, although my hopes haven't crashed and burned yet. "Maybe…well…we're _hoping_ it won't be plural…" And then my hopes do fall, smash, and the pieces are too small to burn.

"God, I hate not seeing him," I murmur, and Cassia kisses my forehead. It feels so sisterly, so welcoming, and I realize that not everyone is against me.

"We'll get him," she says confidently. "Pilot Cassia James has never un-succeeded in a rescue mission!"

_**Later**_

"This is your pilot speaking, and THIS IS YOUR PILOT SHOUTING! Haha, pilot humor. Okay, this is CASSIA JAMES, everyone hear that? YOU NEED TO KNOW THAT YOU NEED TO CALL ME MS. JAMES OR MS. CASSIA OR EVEN MA'AM IS ACCEPTABLE! Also we're not crashing. That's good. And Primrose Everdeen, my FRICKING AWESOME assistant, is standing by with our records! TAKE IT AWAY PRIMROSE!"

"This is Asst. Everdeen speaking. The weather is looking clear, although we may run into some trouble with the high clouds. Remember: if you feel that _anything_ is wrong, please report to staff. We've been in the air for five hours, twenty-three minutes and we have had no problems, except for the reek of liquor in the lounge room (would Haymitch Abernathy report to Command Center?), and a bald eagle incident. Pilot Cassia James would like to add that no one has died—yet. _Shush, Cassia, you'll worry them! _I'm back; did anyone hear that, no? Yes? Ah, who cares, crap it. ANYWAY we remind you of our simple rules for a safe, easy, and unnoticeable flight: be polite, be wary, be friendly, be in the game, and be a reporter, not a bystander. Pilot Cassia James would like to add that you should try not to fall out of an open door. _Cassia! _Gen. Katniss Everdeen reports that there have been no signs of any Capitolite recognizing us. And the final note: dinner tonight will be pasta with meat sauce—and also late, due to the fact that a meeting of the leaders has been scheduled for five o'clock. Asst. Everdeen out."

"CASSIA JAMES IS BACK! I REPEAT, CASSIA JAMES IS BACK! AND I NEED TO LIKE, FLY THIS THING, SO, UM, YEAH, JUST DON'T DIE AND EVERYTHING WILL BE COOL! WE ARE ON THIS MISSION TO RESCUE IAN J. RESEDA, PRIMROSE'S LOVE, AND THE QUESTION IS NOT IF WE RESCUE HIM IT IS _WHEN_ WE RESCUE HIM! STAY ALIVE, EVERYONE! PEACE!"

Cassia sets the microphone down and turns it off. "God, I love this thing!"

"Yeah. You know, when your voice is already magnified, you really don't have to yell, Cassia."

"I'm excited!" she replies, smiling. "The adrenaline is infectious, isn't it? You're excited too, you little bugger." Cassia prods me in the arm, making me laugh. Cassia has this wondrous superpower that allows her to make anyone happy or make anyone laugh. It's amazing. She's amazing.

"So: tell me about this Ian you speak of."

"You know about it! We were reaped, we got sent to the arena—"

"No, no, no, wrong." Cassia shakes her head. "Tell me what he's like. You know, his interests, what you love about him, etc., etc."

And something strikes me but not completely: Cassia reminds me of someone. She reminds me of someone really familiar that I can't put my finger on. It's on the tip of my tongue. But I can't pinpoint it right now…

"Well, Ian's full name is Ian Thomas Reseda. He's fifteen-going-on-sixteen and his birthday is December 12th. His favorite color is white. He argues it's a color not a shade. What I love about him is kinda weird but not really: it's that he's mine. You know how you get the stereotypical 'personality' junk? Well that's not it. I mean, his personality is great, but you don't see all angles of anyone until they really open up to you, and Ian didn't really open up to me until after I told him I loved him. See, love is the great eye-opener. I wrote this poem a really long time ago, its super long but here's part of it:

_"blinded we are by jealousy_

_ ensnared we are by hate,_

_ smothered we are by vainness_

_ ye love will open the gate_

_ "_Kinda sappy, but you still get the picture. Okay, back to Ian: he loves snakes, always been fascinated by them. His lucky number is sixteen, I really dunno why. He hates school in general. He loves me. Obviously, but I mean, he really does love me, and that makes me love him even more. I like staying up late thinking about kissing him and seeing him again. I love Ian's eyes. And his smile can be cheeky, sweet, goofy, mischievous, and loving all at the same time and I love him, Cassia, I love him." My face feels wet and I realize I'm crying sad and happy tears at the same time.

Cassia hugs me and kisses my cheek.

And I hate hate hate myself for thinking this—but—she's a better sister than Katniss. I know Katniss volunteered for me in the reapings, and that she saved me, but since she's never really understood me. She doesn't do emotions and physical contact, only Peeta gets those, and she's always moody and she cries a lot now and she's not the same Katniss. And Cassia is lovely.

"Thank you," I whisper to Cassia, and she releases me and grins crookedly, her long blonde hair falling over one shoulder. Her eyes, gray as a storm cloud, twinkle excitedly. "Don't you worry, missy," she says fiercely, "I'm gonna make sure that Ian gets out. I swear. I swear, I swear, I swear: triple swear."

"Quadruple swear, actually," I say with a smile.

"Heck yeah!" she exclaims.

I smile and say "I really have to check on Katniss" and Cassia says "But of course" and I say "Thanks for being lovely" and Cassia winks and says "It's kind of a CassiaThing" and then I walk off, my brain overloaded with thoughts.

My phone buzzes.

_Ian's calling! _

I run to my bunk, throw the covers over myself, lay huddled in a lump, and answer.

"Primrose Everdeen," Ian proclaims.

"Ian Reseda!" I exclaim.

"I love you. Check your mailbox; it's got a _card_ in it!"

I understand immediately: he's send me something he doesn't want the Capitol to see. "I'll be right back!" I trill, playing along.

Inside of my mailbox is a card with a mushy image on the front of it. Inside is a lovely little message: _I love you, beautiful, and only you. I miss you dearly. You're always in my heart._

But something oily brushes my fingertips and I realize there's another message, in invisible ink. I grab the dimlight (instead of flashlight we call it dimlight because it shines black light instead of regular light) and shine it. You'd think the Capitol would be smart enough to realize they're being fooled. The hidden message: _They're tracking our phone calls. –Ian_

I feel a weight drop into my stomach. Two years worth of messages, word for word being recorded, written down, observed…

_ "Ian!" _I whisper into the phone. _"You shouldn't have!"_

"You got it?"

"I did." I feel my insides squirm again, and my throat burns with bile. I swallow and whisper croakily, "How's E-Elly?"

"She's okay. She's been reading to me in the hospital to keep me occupied. We're reading some book of poetry. It's really interesting. But…but none of the poems are as beautiful as yours," he finishes bashfully, making me love him a thousand times more. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine," I answer mechanically, still horribly aware of _Capitolite tracking._ "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. What's wrong?"

"Just—I guess—I have to go. I'm sorry. I'll tell you later. I swear." We're not going anytime soon (there are plans to be made, routes to be double-checked, and even weapon tests—we're not leaving for at least eight more hours).

"But—"

"I know, I know. I SWEAR I WILL TELL YOU. Just—please—don't call me. I need to go. I'm sorry. I love you. Bye, Reseda." I hang up and sob. I sob for a very, very long time. I must sob for at least an hour, because _I can't tell him anything, anything, because I'm sick with worry about the Capitol and also what if we don't find Ian, what if he's dead by the time we get there because maybe they know, do they know, OH MY GOD IF THEY KNOW…_

"ASST. PRIMROSE J. EVERDEEN, REPORT TO COCKPIT IMMEDIATLY."

I wipe my cheeks and run, run, run to the cockpit because I was supposed to be there for the Checklist meeting. I was supposed to be there a half hour ago. I was supposed to, but I was too distracted by Ian, too distracted by fantasies, things that I can never redo. Things that are over, things that cannot come back; I need to stop. _Stop living in the past. Stop missing him. There's a chance they know, a chance they have Ian, a chance he's already being tortured…_I feel my eyes overflow again and wipe my tears with the heel of my hand.

"ASST. PRIMROSE J. EVERDEEN, REPORT TO COCKPIT IMMEDIATELY. YOUR CAPTAIN IS WAITING."

I turn blindly, my feet with a mind of their own. _Step, step, step, step_…my footsteps sound odd, alien in my ears, echoing against the tile floor. I like it, although it makes my ears ring with the _pat, pat, pat _noise.

I know I just received this "tracking" information an hour and a half ago. I know I only formatted the thought of Ian dying, them taking him before we can reach him, an hour and a half ago. I know. I know, I know, I know.

But time, time is endless; time is inescapable, time is just—time. You are limited in your amount. When you enjoy yourself, it flies. When you hate everything, it slows. And it is slowing for me.

_We need to go faster._

I blink, and find myself staring at the words CONFERENCE ROOM emblazoned on a plaque beside a door. I pull the handle and with the smoothness of silk, the door opens for a virtually silent entrance. There is a wall that sets the doorway off from the actual room, so I can only see one vacant chair at the end of the table. I'm about to round and sit in it when I hear my name, and not just complaints—

"I'm a bit afraid, for Primrose's sake," Effie Trinket says, her voice still tinged with a Capitol accent. "What if Ian is gone? Dead? Tortured?"

"We know there's a possibility," Katniss reasons. "But for Prim, I think we should still go. If he's insane, or worse—she can handle it. I hope."

Her words burn the inside of my throat. _I hope. I hope you can keep it together too, Katniss._

"Where is the girl, anyway?" Haymitch demands.

"Oh, give her a break," Cassia snaps. "The SMs have been watching her; Ian broke the news. He called her. He's a clever kid, sending the message in invis. Although that's risky at this point; the Capitol should know way, way better, and that concerns me. Anyway. She knows about the tracking. God, if they know, we're toast. It's fifty-fifty at this point, fellows."

"We _know_ that. But with Lauren and Logan gone—well, we need to be cautious."

Lauren. Logan. Gone. They're gone. They're dead, and they were only fourteen. I remember them being lovers at twelve—that was their oddness. Their special little oddness. It was lovely. Young love is the best love, because it blossoms so beautifully.

"Who's the stylist now?" Madge asks. I forgot she was part of the crew. I think she's Asst. Weapon Overseer, with Katniss being Chief. "Portia? Cinna?"

"Both," answers Peeta. He sounds fine. He's Chief Sanitary Overseer. He also helps in the kitchens. "Cinna and Portia; we can only hope their new ideas for protective gear are successful—we can't afford to wait any longer. We move now, or we never move."

"True," Katniss says, agreeing, "but we need time to test everything, get things formed. I hear Cinna's been developing a fire-resistant material, and possibly an explosion-proof one as well. Portia's working on camouflage."

"Good. Good." Effie sighs. "My goodness, if they could hurry up with those weapons…we need _more_!"

"Effie. Listen. They. Are. Making. Them. As. Fast. As. They. Can," Haymitch says, slow and annoyed.

"I know that, Mister Obvious, but as Peeta so rightly said, we need to move now." Effie sniffs. "I understand that, above all, we need to get Ian out safely. If he is still alive, that is."

My stomach constricts, loosens, and tightens again. It's like the tide, coming in and receding, except the whole ocean inside of me. The Wave, they called me. The Wave was me. I was the Wave. But Waves crash, dissolve, and reform.

_What does that suggest? That I'm immortal? That's stupid! No one's immortal!_

"Primrose is weak. She's weak, admit it. Emotionally weak, physically weak, and mentally weak. She needs to train," Haymitch says loudly. "She's the weakest thing I've seen lately. A little girl."

"HAYMITCH!" Cassia yells.

"Please, do calm yourself, dear," Effie says, not unkindly. I hear jingles as she shifts in her seat, presumably, to snap at Haymitch, "She's fought off much more than you, if I recall. She won her Games when she was _thirteen._ That beats Mr. Odair by a year! 'A little girl', shame on you! She's fifteen."

"Fifteen is young!" he exclaims angrily.

A sigh issues from around the table. I decide to chance my luck and peer around the wall.

Effie's wearing some sort of icicle dress, with the great things hanging from her shoulders. It looks like someone shocked her, because her hair is also adorned with a headpiece covered in the spikes. Katniss picks at a cuticle, not even looking at Peeta, who glances over at her six times in a span of the thirty seconds I look. Haymitch looks enraged and bored at the same time, a magnificent feat. The last person at the table is Cassia. She glares at Haymitch while Katniss does nothing. This makes me feel ice cold. My own sister, uncaring of what Haymitch said about me. Cassia looks up for half a second, looks down, and does a double take. She's seen me. I smile halfheartedly and make a "please no" motion with my hand. She nods nonchalantly, which to someone else might look like a mere hair-out-of-my-eyes motion. I smile again and disappear behind the wall.

"I agree," Katniss says quietly, "with Haymitch. She should train; she's really fragile right now."

"Don't talk about her like that," Cassia snaps. "You're her sister. Act like it, you—"

"_Anyway,_" Peeta cuts across, sounding nervous, "I don't agree with Haymitch. She's strong. Stronger than you, I daresay," and I can only assume he's talking to Haymitch. A warm glow spreads within me. I've got two on my side.

"I vouch for that," Effie says. Three.

Who would've thought my sister wouldn't be on that side?

"She's weak," Katniss explains, "too weak to fight. Even for her boyfriend. He's probably dead. Someone should—"

There's a colossal CRASH. I look around the wall again to see Cassia have Katniss pinned to the ground. Katniss is face-up, staring at Cassia with wide, fearful eyes. Cassia spits hair out of her mouth. "Do _not_—talk—about—Primrose—that way. Love—you—fight—no—matter—what." Her breaths are uneven, hysterical. "Shut up shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP _SHUT UP!"_

Katniss mumbles something. Cassia screams in fury. "NO, YOU IDIOT! DON'T YOU EVER CALL HER THAT—AGAIN!" She actually slaps Katniss across the face. "EVER, YOU HEAR ME? _FRICKING EVER!"_

"I hear you, alright?" Katniss says quietly.

"SWEAR!"

"I swear I'll never call Primrose a—a—a burden."

I can't help it, I burst into tears. I turn on my heel and leave the Conference Room. Someone calls my name but I really don't give a damn anymore.

Katniss was the only one left who I really loved, who I really knew cared. I knew she actually cared. She volunteered for me. She protected me. She helped me win. And I really loved her.

But now…

_Am I a burden? _

_ She volunteered for me. She could've let me die. So, if I'm a burden, why did she volunteer?_

_ Maybe…maybe it wasn't until after the Games I became a burden._

_ Am I a burden?_

"Hello miss, can I help you?"

I toss my head and raise my eyes to find myself standing in front of the information desk. A woman with sharp eyes and a severe hairstyle sits behind it. I clear my throat. "How big is this thing?"

It tumbled out.

"Well, it's quite big, obviously. About as big as a motel, I suppose. But the invisibility factors help a lot."

_A flying motel?_

"It's longer than it is wide," the woman says. "Rather like living in one long hallway that's twelve feet apart from the other side. Cramped, isn't it?"

"Sure."

I turn away; my mouth tasting like someone washed it with gasoline. I just want to plummet off this stupid plane and end my stupid life.

_Don't you dare try. Don't try to die again. Death is inescapable. Death will come. Remember what your maniac of a therapist told you._

I breathe in and out. In, out, in, out; inhale, exhale. Be calm, be calm. Everything is fine, you're not suicidal…

"I hate you, Katniss." The words need to be said. I can't shake the feeling. I hate her. Is that wrong? Hating your own sister? Yeah. Well, calling your own sister a burden is worse. I am not a burden. I am a burden. I don't know what to believe.

"I hate you."


End file.
